Page 17 of The Christmas House
While Liz, Mamm, and Martha Rose were visiting Henry and his wife, Ida, and their family on Sunday afternoon, Mamm got to talking about how much fun the Sisters Day gathering had been last month and let it slip that her daughter-in-law Gracie had urged her the Saturday before to “wear your for-good clothes.”
Martha Rose grinned as they sat at Ida’s kitchen table enjoying lemon meringue pie. “Liz an’ I figured somethin’ was up when we noticed that.”
“Well, to Gracie’s credit,” Mamm said, “she didn’t actually say what was goin’ to happen. Just for me to look nice.”
“That was gut of her,” Liz said, laughing.
“Well, it was downright peculiar that Gracie would just come over to pick me up Saturday morning, unplanned,” Mamm said with a glance at Liz. “Wasn’t born yesterday, ya know.”
Liz and Martha Rose covered their mouths in amusement.
Snow was falling on Friday afternoon, two days before Christmas, as Liz, Mamm, and Martha Rose stepped into the family buggy to head for the Christmas program at the schoolhouse on Cattail Road.
Liz loved going to the nativity play every year, but she was especially happy this year because some of her older cousins’ children would be playing a part, as well as Reuben’s daughter Mary Ruth.
When Mamm directed the horse to the shoulder to park on the road near the schoolhouse, Liz could see small groups of men talking here and there in the schoolyard.
“Looks like they’re chewin’ the fat ’bout something,” Mamm said, setting the parking brake.
Liz didn’t have to wonder what. The way heads were wagging and hands flapping, she was almost certain they were having their say about all the traffic bringing outsiders from all over to see the Christmas House.
As Liz tied the horse to the fence post, she heard one of the men, voice raised, saying, “I couldn’t get home from the smithy’s last night for the longest time, the road was so crammed with cars. Same thing happened to my neighbors.”
Another farmer spoke up. “My sinful nature’s tempted me to go over and unplug that there music and all the Christmas lights. Ain’t jokin’, neither.”
A third man agreed. “ Jah , at this point, I can scarcely wait for Christmas to be over and done with.”
Hearing this made Liz sad, yet she understood firsthand how challenging it could be to manage driving on the main road leading into the hollow come late afternoon.
This time of year should be joyful . . . not like this , she thought as she stepped in line to enter the schoolhouse with Mamm and Martha Rose when the bell began to toll.
During the nativity play, Liz spotted her young school-age cousins—four shepherds and one small lamb who forgot to remain on all fours and simply sat down at one point. This brought a wave of hushed laughter from the audience.
Liz’s taller cousins were angels, and surprisingly, Reuben’s daughter, who was not exactly angelic by nature, played the part quite convincingly when the manger tipped suddenly and the lifelike doll representing Jesus was at risk of falling out.
Thanks to her quick actions, the babe in the manger was spared.
“A little added drama,” Martha Rose whispered to Liz, who had to squelch her laugh.
By the end of the play and after the traditional presentation of gifts to the schoolteacher, the snow had slowed some, though the forecast was for more to come.
On the ride home next to Mamm in the driver’s seat, Martha Rose recounted all the afternoon’s humorous unscripted events.
But it was Mamm who brought up the consensus of the People, having heard from a good many womenfolk that they disliked the Santa Claus on the Hyatts’ roof and all the secular parts of the display.
“If they had to make a show of things, why not just play up the manger scene?”
Liz agreed but listened carefully as Mamm continued.
“They and their husbands actually regret Logan Hyatt and his family movin’ to Hickory Hollow.”
Liz felt sorry that everyone was seemingly against the Hyatts, recalling Ashley Hyatt’s remark that they still felt a bit lonely.
What can be done? Liz wondered even after returning home and beginning to prepare for her supper date with Matt.
Snow began to fall thicker that evening, and by the time Matt’s driver, Bill Kline, pulled up close to the back door, Liz wondered if she ought to take along her snow boots. But Matt was already out of the van, waving and smiling and sliding the back passenger door open.
“It’s really makin’ down,” she said as she pulled on her knitted mittens and stepped outside.
“Perfect for a pre-Christmas supper.” He helped her into the van.
They sat together on the second bench seat. Two other passengers were seated behind them, both Amishwomen whom Liz didn’t recognize, but she greeted them all the same.
“Can ya guess where we’re goin’?” Matt asked her quietly.
“Give me a hint.”
“Let’s see, there’s a large selection of food.” He smiled at her.
“Well, there’d have to be.” She laughed softly, trying to think where he’d want to take her that wasn’t too busy so close to Christmas. “How about a real hint?” she said.
“It has a fireplace in the large dining room.”
Most of the nicer local restaurants had fireplaces, though. She thought for a while, then gave up. “I can’t guess.”
“Then you’ll just have to wait an’ see,” he said, gently bumping his shoulder against hers.
Liz thrilled to his attention. “I’ll try to be patient,” she replied, wondering if the women behind them were observing Matt’s rather affectionate manner.
Bill stopped the van in front of the restaurant at the Hershey Farm Resort, which had been completely rebuilt since a fire destroyed both the restaurant and the gift shop.
Matt told Bill when to return for them, then, getting out of the van, he offered his hand to help Liz walk down a shoveled pathway to the entrance.
It was a good thing, too, since the fresh snow would have come up higher than her for-good shoes.
Inside, the interior was beautiful and welcoming and decorated for the holidays.
It was obvious they’d arrived ahead of the supper crowd since the greeter immediately led them to a quiet table near the fireplace, which had its mantel adorned with spruce boughs laced with tiny white lights.
A string of brass bells cascaded down each side.
On the table, a tall green taper was already lit, accentuating the white linen tablecloth.
Liz was glad she’d worn her best clothing despite the snowstorm, wanting to look extra nice for Matt.
Soon, the waiter came to take their orders, and both of them chose the golden fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy instead of the all-you-can-eat buffet, although Liz requested buttered carrots for her vegetable and Matt selected the squash medley.
When they were alone, Matt looked at her admiringly. “It’s nice we could see each other like this before Christmas,” he said. “And ... before our last tour together.”
Liz hadn’t wanted to think about that, but tomorrow was Christmas Eve, after all, and her brother and father were due to return from Somerset. Adam will expect to resume working with me after Christmas , she thought sadly.
Without warning, tears sprang to her eyes.
Fortunately, the waiter came to pour ice water into their goblets at just that moment, and she was able to quickly blink her tears away and lower her gaze, looking at the lovely place setting.
“You okay, Liz?” he asked after the waiter left.
She inhaled, trying to gain the upper hand with her emotions—her tears had surprised her. “Such a perty place here, ain’t so?”
He glanced around. “They’ve done a great job rebuilding it. Many Amish worked on it; I know that much.”
“Did you help, too?”
“Only for a week or so before I was called away to smaller jobs in houses and whatnot.”
She had to wonder if he missed doing his construction and repair work, but she didn’t want to bring that up just now. Not while feeling this tenderhearted about not seeing him much after tomorrow.
“Listen, Liz, I’d like to stay in touch with you.” He smiled so sweetly, she could almost guess what he was going to say. “I enjoy your company ... I hope to see ya again after the holidays.”
“I’d like that, too,” she admitted. He’s not asking to court , she thought as their salads were served.
Matt reminisced about some of the highlights of the tours they’d experienced together. Watching his expression as she listened to the warm way he talked about the people they’d met, she realized just how much she would miss having him along.
Adam just doesn’t have the same way with folks.
After dessert, they lingered. Matt’s not in a hurry , either , she thought, even with the snow surely stacking up.
She was thankful they had this quiet moment together before the busy days of Christmas Eve and Christmas arrived, and then Second Christmas the next day, with more relatives coming for dinner—extended family they couldn’t accommodate all at once around Mamm’s table.
It was only when they were waiting in the restaurant’s lobby for the driver that she noticed how very deep the snow had become. “I wonder if people will want to risk comin’ out in this weather tomorrow for the tours,” she said.
Matt shook his head. “They’ll likely cancel if this keeps up.”
She thought of giving her cousin Roy a quick call while they were near a telephone, just to check if there had been any cancellations via the website, but Bill pulled up just then.
The wind picked up and swirled the snow along the freshly shoveled path to the van. Inside, Matt suggested they sit in the far back to make it convenient for other possible passengers to climb in. Liz wondered, too, if it was so they could have a little more privacy this time.
It was slow going even with few cars on the road, the visibility less than a quarter mile or so. Snow was falling sideways, and she wondered how bad this storm would get as Matt and Bill discussed the inclement weather.
“The heaviest snowfall is heading straight for Hickory Hollow,” Bill said.
We should’ve left sooner , Liz thought, but Matt didn’t seem concerned.
Bill turned the radio to some Christmas music, and Liz stared out the window at the twirling snow. From time to time, she could feel the gusts of wind shake the van. “O Holy Night” came on just then, and she prayed silently for their safety.
A few minutes later, Bill’s phone rang, and Liz heard him say, “I’ll certainly do that. Thanks, and you too.”
The brief conversation ended, and Bill looked into his rearview mirror.
“That was your cousin Roy, Liz. I’d mentioned to him when I ran into him earlier today that you’d be riding with me this evening, and he wanted to be sure to catch you, letting you know that your tour reservations for tomorrow have all been cancelled due to the snowstorm.
He also left a voicemail on your father’s barn phone. ”
“ Denki ,” Liz said, relieved. “ Gut to know.”
Another gust of wind swayed the van, and Liz inhaled sharply.
Matt reached for her hand and held it. “You’re all right,” he said softly. “Bill will be sure to get you safely home, Lizzy.”
Hearing him call her that caught her off-guard. Only close relatives referred to her by the nickname. But being with him like this, her hand nestled now in both of his, was a warm comfort in the midst of this awful blizzard.