Christmas In Hollybrook (Hollybrook Holiday Amish Romance) Read online

  “That may be true, Elizabeth Verkler. But your sister is older by some years, and as such, she gets the privilege of the room. Now, if you’d like to bed down in the nursery, that can be arranged. Then, when this boppli comes, you can be the first one to tend to her. Or him.” She gave Lizzie a stern look. “So, which is it?”

  Lizzie let out her breath. “I’ll be sleeping with Matilda,” she said. “But Mamm, I’ll be happy to get up with the boppli sometimes. Really.”

  Mamm laughed. “I believe you, child. Well. Now, that’s settled. Why don’t you two run off and let me catch up with my eldest?”

  Both the girls ran off, and Sadie sat down opposite her mother. “How are you feeling?”

  Mamm tipped her head and sighed. “In truth, I’m tired. I’m so glad your dat sent for you.” She gave Sadie a piercing look. “Did you want to come home?”

  Sadie hesitated. She hardly wanted to lie to her mother. “I wanted to see you,” she answered honestly. “But I hated to leave Mammi. And I really don’t want her alone on Christmas.”

  “She could come here.”

  “You said it yourself. She’s stubborn.”

  “So, you want to go back.” The words were spoken frankly, without accusation.

  Sadie felt badly that they were true, but there it was.

  “You don’t have to cushion my feelings. You’ve been in Ohio for two years. It’s only natural that your life is there now.”

  Sadie reached out and clasped her mother’s hand, relieved that she understood.

  “And is there a young man?”

  Sadie blanched. Such things weren’t discussed. Her mother burst into laughter.

  “Ach. You should see your face. What’s his name?”

  Sadie only hesitated for a moment. “He’s a farmer there. We, well, I don’t know if we’re courting seriously or not.” Although having Aaron’s letter tucked safely in her suitcase indicated as much. But being back in Hollybrook, being back in her childhood home, brought the memory of Peter back to her more strongly than she’d hoped.

  “I always wanted to talk to you about something,” her mother was saying. “Now, I understand all about what’s talked about and what isn’t. Land’s sake, girl, I’ve lived over forty years. And, the Lord Gott knows, I’ve kept quiet on this for months and months. So, even though I know it’s frowned upon and discouraged, I am going to ask you now…”

  Sadie tensed, fearing where her mother was going with such talk.

  “Were you in love with Peter Wyse when you left?”

  Sadie sucked in a loud breath, surprised by her mother’s bold question, and even more surprised by her mother’s insight. She’d thought she’d hidden her feelings well.

  Bonnie Verkler shook her head sadly. “So, it’s as I feared. It’s written all over your face. I’m sorry. At the time, I thought it puzzling that you jumped so quickly at the chance to help Mammi.” She held up her hand as if to stop Sadie’s objection. “Oh, I know you love your Mammi and would do anything for her. But I always thought you’d come home, or at least not be so eager to shed your life here. It didn’t add up for a teenage girl. You had dear friends here, and I knew you were seeing someone. At least for a while. I noticed how you’d come home late some evenings…”

  She leaned forward and whispered to Sadie. “You were with Peter, ain’t so?”

  Sadie gulped past the rapidly growing lump in her throat. “Jah,” she whispered.

  “It must have hurt you something fierce when he married Eloise.”

  Hurt her something fierce? Sadie closed her eyes, not wanting to remember it.

  “Ach, I’m sorry,” her mother went on. “What am I thinking, bringing all this up?”

  “It’s … it’s all right,” Sadie said, opening her eyes and focusing back on her mother. “Would you like to take a nap, Mamm? You’re looking pale.”

  “A nap? What would your dat be thinking if I took a nap. Nee.” She stood. “I’m thinking that it’s about time to get supper started.”

  Sadie stood also, and pushed her mother back down. “I’ll be getting supper on the table. Me and Lizzie and Matilda. You’re going to get some rest, just like Old Mae said.”

  Chapter Three

  Peter Wyse wandered through the daadi haus he still lived in. Actually, it was his late wife’s family daadi haus. He should have moved out. And he’d intended to move out more than once, but every time he started to pack up, Eloise’s mother would somehow know. She’d leave the big house and come back there to visit him. She’d go on and on about how having Peter still with them kept Eloise’s memory alive for her.

  And then what could he do?

  He had to stay. How could he hurt his in-laws?

  But the very reason that Eloise’s mother wanted him to stay was the very reason he wanted to leave. Wandering through the small house was like walking through an empty grave. Eloise wasn’t there, but all her things were. The first few months had been excruciating. Her scent had remained, along with her things. Everywhere he turned, he could smell her. He kept expecting her to be there, smiling at him, laughing at something he said.

  But she wasn’t there. She was gone. She was dead.

  And he’d had to accept it. They’d barely had six months together as man and wife. Barely enough time to really know each other. Eloise had been such a sweet girl. Fragile. Delicate. Strange how none of them had ever guessed there was something wrong with her heart. He knew that she got out of breath easily. Whenever, she walked through the fields, she would pant. When he’d question it, she would just laugh and say that she needed to eat a bit more—get up her strength.

  He hadn’t given it enough thought. Maybe if he had, he could have prevented her from dying. He stopped his pacing. Foolish thought. He couldn’t have stopped anything. God had called her home. Pure and simple. And it wasn’t his place to question it or to question God.

  He walked to the kitchen and stood in the middle of the floor as if he were lost. It was past the supper hour. Eloise’s mother hadn’t invited him over, but he knew he could go to the big house and eat with them—he’d done so often enough. But not every meal. And he didn’t like the feeling it gave him sometimes. Like he was a pitiable person who lived off his relatives.

  He went to the refrigerator and pulled it open. A ketchup bottle, some mayonnaise, a partial loaf of bread, and a shriveled apple. He grabbed the bread and took out a slice. He opened a cupboard door and found the peanut butter. He slathered a thick layer onto the bread and sat down at the kitchen table. What a meal.

  He was pitiable.

  Other men learned how to cook, and he supposed he could, too. He aimlessly looked around the adjoining front room. It was tidy enough—he did make sure of that. But it was empty. Empty. He took three more huge bites finishing off the slice of bread. He stood up and grabbed his coat from the peg by the front door and went outside.

  He sucked in a quick breath at the frigid temperatures. It was dark out, the sun now falling at four-thirty or so every afternoon. He probably should have brought a lantern with him, but he wasn’t in the mood to have the Gundy family watch him walk across the lawn and out to the road. They’d wonder where he was headed, and rightly so.

  One didn’t walk around in the dark for no reason. But that was exactly what he was doing—walking around in the dark for no reason. Only to escape his home. He needed to move out. In the worst way, he needed to move out. He could probably go back to his parents’ farm. His old bedroom stood empty. But for some reason, that didn’t appeal to him either.

  Dear Lord, he was a man without a home. He got to the road and turned left, wandering in the growing cold without a thought as to where he was going. The frigid air actually felt good to him, slapping at his face, allowing him to feel something besides his own tiresome emotions. This simply couldn’t continue. Winter was the hardest. Summer kept him so busy helping Jess Gundy on the farm that it left little time to think. But the winters… He plodded through the days addlebrained.<
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  He drew in a deep breath. He needed to marry again.

  His thoughts darted to the days before he proposed to Eloise. He’d been courting Sadie Verkler. Despite his current mood, he grinned. Sadie was fun. Lively. Curious. His jaw tightened. He’d done her wrong. He knew Sadie had wanted to marry him. She was in love with him, and he had been halfway in love with her. No, in truth, he had loved her.

  But then, Eloise had begun showing interest. She needed him. Her frail nature and soft-spoken manner had cut straight through his heart. Sadie was strong. But Eloise—now, there was a girl who truly needed a protector—and Peter had stepped up to do the job. He couldn’t even put into words what had come over him. He supposed he’d fallen head over heels in love. At the time, that was what he’d thought, anyway. And indeed, he had loved Eloise. Sweet, sweet Eloise.

  But lately, when he thought on it, he realized that her need had fed him somehow. Blinded him with importance. Led him into their whirlwind courtship. But he’d always felt guilty about dropping Sadie like that. He wished he would have handled it differently. She deserved so much better.

  He could have married Sadie, and they would have been happy. He shook his head. He couldn’t be thinking in such a manner. Sadie had left for Ohio shortly after he’d left her. He’d heard it was to take care of her grandmother, and indeed, that was probably partially true. Because at the time, even in his hazy infatuated mind, he’d known that Sadie had left to escape him.

  The thought still bothered him, but it had evidently turned out for the best. Sadie was still gone. Still in Ohio. That had to mean she was happy there. She surely wasn’t still mourning his loss after so long—she surely wasn’t still living there to avoid him. He wasn’t that naïve.

  He found himself wanting to see her. Wanting to talk with her. Wanting to hear her laugh. Sadie’s laughter was contagious, and he smiled at the memory of it.

  Ach, what was he doing? She was likely married by now. He’d always avoided any news of Sadie, feeling too guilty to listen.

  “I wish you well, Sadie,” he whispered into the darkness. He increased his pace, walking harder, breathing deeper, feeling the air slice through his lungs. Maybe it was going to snow. Folks favored a white Christmas, even though it made travel dangerous and miserable.

  It was time to go back to his house. By the time he got there, he could read for a bit and then turn in for the night. He never stayed up late, as he didn’t enjoy sitting there alone with his thoughts. Bed was the answer. And sleep. A person didn’t think when they were asleep.

  Chapter Four

  Sadie stood inside her old bedroom and looked around. Lizzie had moved the dresser from beside the window to closer to the door. Other than that, everything was the same as the day she’d left. Even the same green and white star quilt covered the bed.

  It was as if she’d never been gone. But she had. Everything had changed. Peter had gotten married and was now a widower. Aaron Roggi had started to court her in Ohio. It wasn’t lost on Sadie that the main changes she took note of had to do with courtship and love. She opened her suitcase that was lying on the bed. She took out Aaron’s letter and sat down at the head of the bed, next to the pillow. She leaned slightly toward the lantern on the bedside table and unfolded the letter.

  Dear Sadie,

  I am glad that you’ll be of help to your mamm in Hollybrook. It does sound like she needs you there. But I’m hopeful you will return before long.

  I am asking if you’d allow me to write you while you’re gone. Consider this the first letter of many. Thank you for giving me your address. Surely, you must have figured out why I asked for it. So, the fact that you gave it to me hopefully indicates your agreement to exchange letters. I guess I’ll find out soon.

  I do love this Christmas season. Work outside has slowed to almost nothing, and everyone stays huddled together by the warming stove. Mamm puts out puzzles for us to work on, and they’re a nice way to pass the time.

  Will you be returning for Christmas? I know I asked you that earlier, but you weren’t sure. I’m wondering if you now know. My three younger sisters are practicing their recitations for the school Christmas program. I tease them, and they get so upset with me. But it is all done in fun.

  Please write to me, Sadie. I’m eager to hear how your mamm is and how you are doing over there in Hollybrook.

  Your faithful friend,

  Aaron

  When Sadie had first read his letter, her heart had warmed. Aaron liked her. He liked her fine, and he was the age when fellows started looking in earnest for a wife. But now, sitting there in her former bedroom and holding his letter, her feelings had changed. She felt a disconnect that was new. She shivered and frowned. What was wrong with her? Why should she feel differently about Aaron’s letter just because she’d come home?

  But she knew why. Her hand shook as she folded Aaron’s letter and returned it to the envelope. She knew why. Being back home had plunged her into the past. Plunged her right back into her former feelings.

  And all she could think about was Peter Wyse.

  She stuck Aaron’s letter in the bedside table’s drawer and stood up to put away her belongings. It wouldn’t take long; she didn’t have much. When she hung her last dress on a peg by the door she again stood and gazed about her room.

  What was she to do now? Everyone was tucking in for the night, so she could hardly go downstairs and look for something to do. She sighed. She used to keep a few books in the bottom drawer of the dresser. Maybe they were still there and she could read one of them—that would get her mind off things. She knelt on the floor and opened the drawer. She let out a small gasp of pleasure. They were still there. She grabbed the top one, which was Little Women. Her mother had raised a brow when she’d selected it from a rack at an Englisch drug store years before. But after reading the flap, her mother had given her go-ahead and Sadie had purchased the book.

  Now, Sadie ran her hand over the well-worn cover, feeling as though she’d just found an old friend. She changed quickly into her nightgown and then got under her covers and settled in for a nice read. But she couldn’t concentrate. She turned up the lantern, increasing the light, but that didn’t help. She read out loud to herself in a soft whisper, hoping that would keep her mind on the story.

  That didn’t help either. Finally, she put the book aside and grabbed the tablet and pencil from the bedside table. She’d write to Aaron. That was what she would do. Surely, that would help her feel closer to him and get Peter off her mind.

  Dear Aaron,

  I’ve arrived. Thank you for the letter you sent right before I left Ainesburg. It was sweet of you to write.

  My family is well. Mamm is tired, but doing all right. I’m glad I can be here to manage things for her. It will be odd with so many in the family, as I’m used to just Mammi and me.

  I would like to return for Christmas. In truth, I plan to. But I haven’t shared that news with Mamm an Dat yet. I think it wisest to wait.

  Sadie re-read what she had written. It sounded friendly, warm. At least, she thought so. But she didn’t want to write Aaron. She wanted to write Peter. She drew in a sharp breath. What was she thinking? Of course, she couldn’t write Peter. Or could she? Couldn’t she write to Peter and not send the letter?

  Her pulse increased at the thought. Yes. She could do that. It might help to get her feelings out. She wouldn’t send the letter; she would hide it away there in her bedroom. She’d heard once that writing was a good way to deal with unwanted feelings. And goodness, but she needed to get this ball of confusion out of her heart, for sure and for certain.

  She quickly signed her letter to Aaron and folded it, ready for an envelope and stamp in the morning. Then she ripped off another piece of paper and began writing again.

  Dear Peter,

  I’m back in Hollybrook now. Of course, I don’t expect you to know that, which is why I’m telling you. I didn’t want to come. Because of you, Peter. Because of you. You hurt me so badl
y when you dropped me. I had thought that you liked me. Didn’t you? How I liked you. Nee. How I loved you. You broke my heart.

  When I look back now, I can still feel that young girl’s broken heart. I don’t really blame you, of course. You were totally free to choose whoever you wanted to court. I had hoped it would be me. And it was for a little while, wasn’t it? I loved those times we spent together. I had such dreams. Oh, I was a foolish girl.

  But I loved you.

  I fear I still do. And I don’t want to. You made your choice two years ago. So, loving you now is quite sad, actually. I am ashamed to even admit it, which is why I’m writing it in this letter which will never reach you.

  I am so sorry for your loss, Peter. My heart breaks for you. How awful that Eloise died. I can’t even imagine how hurt you must have been and maybe still are. She was a nice girl. But then, you know that. You loved her. I’m so sorry.

  It’s odd to be back home. I feel like time hasn’t really passed. Like I’m caught in a spider web and can’t pull myself out of it. I’m wriggling and wriggling, but I’m trapped in its sticky threads. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to Ohio to be with Mammi.

  Yet part of me wants to see you first. Not necessarily to talk to you or anything, just to see you. I have such an image of you in my head, and I have no idea if you look the same or not. I don’t even know if I look the same. Probably not. Two years can seem forever, can’t it? Goodness. I just said the opposite earlier. I guess I just want to see if you’re all right. I don’t want to worry about you.

  I don’t want to think about you.

  Maybe if I see you, I can forget you. And maybe if I see you, I won’t feel anything. That’s what I am hoping for. To not feel anything except Christian love.

  Goodness, but I’m going on and on, aren’t I? I guess it doesn’t matter since you won’t read this. So, really, I suppose I’m writing to myself. Now that is an odd thought.