Page 18 of The Christmas House

The snow continued as they drove east, nearly blinding at times.

Liz wondered how Bill could see well enough to navigate the typically busy highway.

Occasionally, Liz could make out the glow of lights from a hotel or shops, but as the snow thickened, the highway became lost in the unbroken storm.

It was unsettling to her, and she felt dizzy as she stared out the window.

Eventually, Bill made the turn north onto Hershey Church Road, then Cattail Road, and Liz peered out the window again, trying to make out the familiar landmarks, including the bishop’s big farm on the left that now literally blended into the whiteness.

She was stunned at how different everything looked with all the snow piling up.

Dat had once called a storm like this a whiteout , she recalled.

As they headed onward, Matt sat up straight, as if trying to see the road ahead.

The sky seemed to have lowered, limiting the visibility even more, and she realized she was gritting her teeth as they passed the general store with its nearly flat roof and the hitching posts along its front cloaked in white.

When they turned onto the road that led past the Christmas House with only the van’s headlights to guide the way, Liz could scarcely make out the shape of the farmhouses she knew were scattered here and there.

The snow masked trees, horse fences, and outbuildings.

Even Logan Hyatt’s renowned display was difficult to spot in the tempest. And as they moved slowly along, it dawned on Liz.

“Look!” she said to Matt. “All the Christmas lights are off ... and the house is dark, too.”

“If they’re without electric, it could be a problem,” Matt said.

“Well, a while back, I noticed a small stack of chopped wood behind the house,” Bill said, glancing up at the roof. “There is a chimney, so they must at least have a wood-burning stove or fireplace.”

After mentioning the work he had done there, Matt confirmed they did, in fact, have a wood-burning stove, but only in the front room.

Hearing this was a slight comfort to Liz, but seeing the Christmas trappings nearly buried in snow seemed so very strange.

Gone were the alluring lights and merry music that had disturbed so many neighbors.

“Folks nearby will have a quieter night,” Matt whispered to her.

Liz was silent, pondering all of this and hoping the Hyatt family would have enough warmth for the time being.

A short distance past the Christmas House, the snow on the road became so deep that the underside of the van scraped the drifts.

Bill slowed to a stop and put the van’s gear in reverse, attempting to back up.

He shifted the gears again, and the wheels began to spin.

Again and again, he tried to back up, to get free of the snowdrift.

“I’m afraid we’re stuck,” he said at last, putting on the emergency blinkers.

He used his phone to call for assistance, but after the call ended, he turned in his seat to tell them that it would be an hour or more before help arrived.

“Sounds like all of Hickory Hollow and a large swath of Salisbury Township to the east are without power due to downed power lines. And it likely won’t be restored for at least a couple days. ”

Matt glanced at Liz with a concerned look, then at Bill. “I’d hate to leave ya here, but maybe Liz an’ I should just walk the rest of the way.”

“Only if you think you can make it all right.” Bill sounded hesitant. “It’s always best to stay in the vehicle during such a storm, even without heat.”

“My house is only one farm away,” Liz said, trying to sound braver than she felt. “Not that far.” Then quietly, she told Matt, “You can stay at our place, if need be.” Mamm wouldn’t mind , she thought.

“It won’t seem like a short jaunt in this storm,” Bill warned.

There was a pause, the wailing wind the only sound except for the snow against the windows.

“The longer we wait,” Liz urged, “the worse it could get.” She shivered at the thought.

The atmosphere in the vehicle was solemn, and Liz didn’t want to be the one making the final decision, no matter how badly she wanted to get home. What would Dat and Mamm say to do?

“Do ya have a blanket or something Liz could wrap up in, maybe?” Matt asked at last.

Bill pointed toward the very back of the van. “There’s a waterproof tarp behind the seat where you’re sitting.”

Matt reached over the back of the seat to get the lightweight folded tarp. “We’ll be very careful, and I’ll watch over Liz. Oh, and would ya mind leavin’ a message on my Dat’s barn phone, so my folks know where I’ll be tonight?”

“I’ll do that,” Bill said. “I have their number.” He paused, then added, “When you can, Matt, give me a call from the Lantzes’ barn phone. I’ll rest easier knowing you and Liz got there safely.”

“I will,” Matt promised. He removed his straw hat and took out a black knit hat from his coat pocket. “I’ll have to leave my hat here in the van, if ya don’t mind.”

“I’ll see that you get it back,” Bill said.

Matt reached to open the sliding door, and Liz got up from her seat.

Outside, Matt stamped his feet to make a landing spot for her to step down, then held up the tarp to place it over her head.

From there on, the drifting snow swallowed her feet, almost knee-high at times as she pushed one foot, then the other, forward with great effort.

Oh, she wished she’d brought her snow boots—her legs and dress were immediately soaked.

Matt held on to her with their every step, and thanks to Bill’s tarp, both of them were somewhat protected from the lashing snow.

Liz tried to think of things to be thankful for as they crept forward deliberately, one being that she was young and strong enough for such a trek.

Who would’ve thought I’d end up plodding through drifts of snow after such a nice supper date?

Meanwhile, Matt kept his strong arm around her, not letting her fall, though several times she almost did. “I’m mighty sorry ’bout this,” he said, his voice indistinct in the howling wind.

“We should be home soon,” she reassured him, but she really didn’t know for sure, because it was difficult to make out familiar sights. “We’re goin’ in the right direction, anyway.”

Matt was silent for the longest time, and she hoped he wasn’t regretting their decision to leave the van.

She squinted into the wind and asked God to help them find their way before either of them suffered frostbite.

Matt led her toward a section of the road where the snow was a little less deep, and they could walk more easily. She wouldn’t tell him, but her feet and legs were numb, and her wet mittens were useless to keep her fingers warm.

The only other time she’d been out in a snowstorm like this, she and her brother Henry had taken the pony and cart over to the general store for Mamm.

It had been years ago, and a sudden snow squall had come up when they were only halfway home.

The difference between that storm and this one was that she and Henry had ridden in the cart during the daytime, and while the visibility was almost nil, the pony knew the way home.

I was only eight but unafraid since my older brother was with me , she recalled.

Thinking back to that long-ago day, Liz peered into the fury and thought she saw a candle in a window not far away.

And as they walked onward, she could see even more candles shining in the upstairs and downstairs windows, little beacons in the night.

Mamm’s doing, she was sure. “That’s my house,” she told Matt, certain of it.

“A welcome sight.” He sounded relieved.

“We’re close now.” She kept her eyes fixed on Mamm’s battery-operated candles, and suddenly she had a wonderful-good idea.

“ Kumme en! Yous are soaked to the skin,” Mamm said as Liz and Matt clomped in the back door and removed the tarp. Her mother’s face was pale, and she reached to touch Liz’s cold cheek. “Oh, my dear ...”

“The van got stuck in a drift—couldn’t make it this far,” Matt explained and asked if he could use the stable phone to let the driver know they’d made it here.

“ Ach , I hate for ya to go back out in this.” Mamm shook her head. “Can ya see your way out there?” She reached for a flashlight and gave it to him.

Matt took the flashlight and wet tarp and headed out the door again.

Martha Rose came into the utility room just then. “You’re home,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t believe the driver let ya walk in this.”

Liz explained that with Matt along, she’d felt safe. “But it was harder goin’ than we expected. All that matters is we’re home now.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Martha Rose said, eyes serious.

Mamm nodded and took Liz’s wet coat and black outer bonnet to hang in the kitchen near the heater stove. “ Kumme get warmed up, Lizzy.”

She took off her wet shoes and stockings and left them in the utility room, then went to stand near the coal stove while Martha went to fetch blankets for them to wrap up in.

In a short time, Matt returned and joined Liz by the stove, barefoot. He placed his coat and knit hat near the stove on the floor and rubbed his hands together, his damp hair sticking up. “Bill was mighty relieved to hear from me. He’d already left a message for my Dat.”

Liz was glad Matt’s parents wouldn’t worry.

“We began to pray when the snow started comin’ so quick,” Mamm said. “At least two inches an hour.”

“I was prayin’, too,” Matt said quietly.

Liz looked up at him with respect. He was worried but didn’t let on .

After a time, Mamm motioned for Matt to go with her. “Adam’s room is clean and available,” she said, heading through the kitchen to the other side of the sitting room.

“ Denki for your hospitality,” Matt said, and Liz could hear him as she and Martha Rose headed to the bathroom close to the kitchen, where she ran tepid water over her still-cold hands. “One of Mamm’s muffs sure would’ve come in handy tonight.”

“Can ya move your fingers?” Martha asked, a concerned frown on her face.

“ Jah .” She began to move them, slowly at first. “’Tween you and me, I’m not sure how much farther we could’ve gone.”

“Oh, sister, I kept wonderin’ where you were ... what was happenin’.”

“The Lord was with us. I know that.”

Liz heard Mamm telling Matt that he was welcome to wear anything he found in the closet or dresser drawers. “I ’spect you and Adam are close to the same size,” she said.

Liz smiled, remembering how wary she’d been at just the thought of Matt taking Adam’s spot with the tours, and here he was staying the night at her family’s house.

After warming her hands with the lukewarm water, Liz patted them dry on the small towel.

Then Martha Rose helped her remove the many straight pins from her wet cape and long apron before Liz patted herself with a bath towel, thinking how nice a warm bath or shower would be.

But she wanted that for Matt, since he’d taken the brunt of the cold for her.

Liz told Martha about the power outage in Hickory Hollow and also farther to the east, thinking again of the Hyatts.

“All the lights were off at the Christmas House, inside and out, even though it was all lit up when we passed by there earlier this evening.” She also mentioned that the driver had been told about the many downed power lines when he called for roadside assistance.

“Bill said the power would likely be out for a couple of days.”

“We should pray for our English neighbors tonight,” Martha Rose said.

“ Jah .” Liz headed upstairs to her room and lit the gas lamp, got out of her damp clothes, and put on her warmest nightgown, thinking she would stay upstairs a while to give Matt his privacy since the downstairs bathroom was the only one in the house.

Sighing now as what they’d gone through began to sink in, she removed her hairpins and let down her damp hair.

She still felt chilled, so she slipped on her long robe over her nightgown, got into bed, and pulled up her quilts, burrowing down like a gopher for the time being.

She thanked God for helping her and Matt make it here safely.

Her breathing warmed the space beneath the covers, and she relived her special date with Matt and the challenge of getting home. And once again, she contemplated the idea forming in her heart.

I’ll discuss it with Matt tomorrow.