A Wells Landing Christmas Read online

  Well, two, she thought as she pulled into the drive.

  Zeb was sitting on his tractor as if he had been waiting. His demeanor said he had been there a while.

  He was like a thorn in her side. Or perhaps it was a splinter that had festered.

  “What do you want, Zeb?” Her good mood disappeared in a heartbeat.

  “So good to see you too, Ivy.”

  She climbed down from her tractor and braced her fists on her hips. “The weather’s been cold, la-la-la. But you didn’t come here to talk about that.”

  “No,” he said simply.

  “Why are you sitting out here? Where’s my grandfather?”

  “I don’t know. I got here, and there was no answer. So I waited for you to come home.”

  “He’s not here?” Panic reared anew.

  “I guess not. I mean, I haven’t seen him. Is he supposed to be here?”

  “Of course! He lives here.” Her voice rose with her panic.

  “Calm down,” Zeb said soothingly. “We’ll look for him.”

  Ivy swallowed hard and set off toward the barn. Maybe he was in there.

  She ducked inside and searched everything, from the tack room to the empty stalls where they stored extra supplies. He wasn’t in the barn, or outside the barn. He wasn’t in the cellar, the hay barn, or the toolshed. He wasn’t on the front porch or the back porch, and with each place she checked off her list, she grew a little more agitated. She had to find him. Had to. And he had to be okay. There was simply no other way for it to be.

  “He’s not here.” Her breath was coming out in ragged, short bursts. Where could he be? Where should she look first?

  Zeb grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look him in the eyes. “Getting yourself all worked up is not going to help. Let’s go in the house and talk through this.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We’re going to sit on the couch and pet the cat like calm and rational people. Then we can think of all the places he could have gone. Okay?”

  Reluctantly she nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was say that he was right, but he was.

  “Good. Come on.” He took her by the hand and led her up the porch steps, then waited patiently as she got out her key.

  She fit it into the lock and it immediately gave way. “Zeb.” She did everything in her power to keep the concern from her voice. Now truly was the time to be in control. “The door wasn’t locked.”

  “And he locks it when he leaves?”

  She nodded.

  “Then he has to be here.”

  “Or someone else is in there.”

  “Ivy.”

  She shrugged. It was Christmastime, and the percentages for home invasions increased the closer they got to the holidays. No one bothered to check for power lines, and many an Amish home had been broken into by someone trying to find gifts under the tree.

  “There’s no one in there.”

  She wanted to ask him how he could be so sure, but she stopped herself. “Let’s go,” she said instead.

  They stepped into the house. Ivy looked around, then jabbed Zeb in the ribs. “Don’t you think we should have a weapon?”

  “A weapon.” It wasn’t quite a question.

  “Jah. In case of an attack.”

  “We’re Amish,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

  “I know that. But they’re not.”

  “What are the two of you carrying on about?”

  Ivy slapped one hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. “Dawdi! What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.”

  Zeb burst out laughing. “So you do.”

  “That’s more than I can say about you. What are you doing here, boy?” He said the words, then shot Ivy a wink.

  Ivy’s legs had turned to jelly. She had been so worked up, and for nothing. Her grandfather was fine. Who knew why he hadn’t answered the door? It didn’t matter. The fact that he was safe was more than enough for her. She drew in a deep breath. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was pounding. She needed a minute to get herself back in order. Apparently, that wasn’t to be.

  “I came to ask Ivy to go to a Christmas card party with me tomorrow night.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.” She wanted to tell him that she had to work, but it was Sunday. She couldn’t use that as an excuse. But that didn’t mean she was going.

  “Not can’t, won’t,” he corrected.

  “All right then, won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  She looked at her grandfather, who was watching the two of them as if they were a live play put on for his singular enjoyment. “Dawdi,” she said. “Don’t you have something to do?”

  “Not that I can remember.” He smiled innocently.

  “Then find something,” she said, her teeth gnashed together.

  “Fine.” He sniffed, feigning hurt, and scooped Chester into his arms. He scratched her behind the ears and spun on his heel. He was mumbling under his breath as he headed off to his bedroom.

  She took another, not-so-soothing breath and turned her attention to Zeb. “You know why I can’t go to the party with you.”

  “See? That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t know why you won’t go with me. It seems like it will be a lot of fun, and we’re making cards for the men and women at the VA hospital in Muskogee.”

  “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” she asked, hoping to distract him from the original topic.

  “We may not fight, but I’ve long since come to terms with the idea that in today’s world it might be necessary for some. And I’m glad those some fight for me. Some of these soldiers have been there for years. Some have no family and need others to support them.”

  She couldn’t protest further lest she look petty and selfish. “I don’t want to go to a party where I’m ignored.”

  “But the soldiers—”

  “If it’s that important, I can make one here.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  Ivy shook her head. “You’re missing the point. No one in this town wants anything to do with me. Why should I go where I’m not wanted?”

  He stood stock-still, just looking at her. Finally, he spoke. “Do you have another boyfriend?”

  A bark of laughter escaped her. The handsome face of Ethan Dallas popped in front of her mind’s eye and made her laughter increase. “First off, in order to have another boyfriend, I would need to have a boyfriend. Which I don’t. And secondly, why would I have a boyfriend?”

  “You’re never here when I come over.”

  “Job. Not boyfriend.”

  “You never agree to go out with me.”

  “Nor will I.”

  “Ivy.”

  “Zeb.” She crossed her arms and waited for his reply.

  He shook his head. “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

  “Ditto.”

  He looked like he wanted to say more, but he pressed his lips together. “Fine,” he said after their stare-down. “Don’t come with me. I don’t care.”

  His tone belied his words. If he didn’t care, then why was he quickly turning a bright shade of pink? The color made his eyes look even greener.

  She stepped aside as he started for the door.

  “I retract my invitation,” he said, one hand on the knob.

  “Noted.” She gave a quick nod.

  He growled under his breath, rolled his eyes, and let himself out into the cold.

  “That’s no way to treat a boy with a crush.” Her grandfather eased out from his hiding place in the hallway. He still held Chester in his arms, a sure indication that he had never made it to his room and had heard their entire exchange.

  “I’ve never been good with such things,” she muttered and headed for her room.

  * * *

  That was the second time Dawdi had mentioned Zeb having a crush on her. Which was ridiculous. So bizarre that the words kept her up most of the night. He didn�
��t have a crush. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, but that wasn’t possible. Not for either one of them.

  Consequently, she was exhausted all during work and dragging around while shoppers came in for the weekly cookie deal. Finally, her shift ended and she hauled herself home. Her grandfather had dinner ready and was smiling all the while, like he had a secret no one knew but him. Any other day she might have asked what he was so chipper about, but she didn’t have the energy.

  To make matters worse, she couldn’t sleep. Who had gone to the party? Were they still there or had they gone home? All night long she listened for the sound of tractors chugging down the road. Not that she would have been able to hear them. The weather was cold. Christmas was on the way. The windows were closed tight. But still she listened.

  And stayed up.

  Which made her late getting up the next morning.

  Church Sundays always started early, but there was something comforting about the ritual. Her grandfather would get up and start coffee and breakfast as she went out to feed all the animals. Then they would have their breakfast, get dressed, and drive the buggy to the home of whoever was hosting this service. This morning, however, the ritual was thrown out the window as she scrambled to get ready. She rushed around, wishing she had time to iron her white church apron, but today that just wasn’t possible.

  She skipped down the stairs, making a quick note that her grandfather wasn’t awake either. Which meant no coffee, and no breakfast, at least not a hot one. And the animals would have to wait until after the service to be fed. She just wouldn’t stay for the meal. She’d make some excuse, like anyone would care when she left, and head home to feed them as soon as possible.

  She pinned up her hair, set her covering in place, and snatched up a leftover piece of corn bread from last night’s supper. It wasn’t a good breakfast by far, but it was better than nothing. And it could be eaten on the way. She wrapped it in a paper towel, then started up the stairs. “Dawdi,” she called as she went. “Dawdi!”

  Her grandfather was a sound sleeper, but he was also an early riser. What a day for both of them to oversleep.

  She tucked a wayward strand of hair under her kapp and prayed that it stayed there. She didn’t have time to redo the whole thing.

  “Dawdi.” She stood outside his bedroom door. He was usually up by now, and she only had to call once or twice when she got up before he did. She knocked on the door. “Dawdi! We’re late. Come on!”

  No response.

  “Dawdi!” She knocked again, as a sinking feeling hit her stomach. He wasn’t in his room. She knew it. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but he was gone. She knocked one more time for courtesy’s sake and wrenched open the door.

  Her instincts were correct. He wasn’t inside. The bed was perfectly made, leaving her to wonder if he had been gone all night or gotten up this morning.

  Frantically she looked around the room. His shoes were by the bed. He had probably left this morning. But where had he gone?

  Chapter Nine

  Where could he be?

  Ivy grabbed her coat and scarf from the peg by the front door and put them on as she hurried from the house. He couldn’t be far. He didn’t have on shoes or a coat. She had seen the last still hanging next to hers this morning.

  Maybe he was in the barn. Just because he wasn’t in his room didn’t mean he had gone far. He might have been trying to be kind in letting her sleep in. He could have gone out to the barn, fed all the animals, and lost track of time.

  But he wasn’t in the barn. Or the toolshed. He wasn’t in the hay barn, the loft, or the cellar. She even checked the old outhouse that sat at the back side of the garden but was never used anymore. Ivy thought it was charming in an old-fashioned sort of way and was loath to tear it down.

  She bit her lip and scanned the horizon. He wasn’t in the empty fields. Or the small orchard that sat between the house and the road. And that left . . . the road.

  The tractor sat in its usual place, under the awning that jutted from the side of the hay barn. At least she knew he was on foot. Bare feet, she corrected. With transportation on her side, she might be able to catch up with him, but church was out of the question.

  She gave the tractor one last longing look, then whistled for her horse. She would have rather taken the tractor. It would be much faster, but tractors weren’t allowed on Sundays. She hitched up the gelding and said a quick prayer. She had to find him. She simply had to. But even as she prayed, worse-case scenarios ran through her head. Unconscious in a ditch, hit by a car, hit by a truck, lost in the woods, and even more terrifying outcomes.

  She would find him. She would.

  She stopped at the edge of the road, looking first one way and then the other. Which direction? She had no idea. Left would take her toward the bishop’s house and would eventually lead to the Millers’, where church was to be held today. Right would go toward town. She would pass by the general store and several Englisch churches. Why would he have gone that way? No reason, she deducted, and turned toward the Ebersols’.

  Going was slow. She was doing her best to look at both sides of the road, which wasn’t easy through the small buggy windows. At least not while trying to keep Harvey, their gelding, on the right side of the road. At the rate she was going, she would never find him before church started. Yet at this point she was truly concerned with finding him at all.

  Each road that branched off from theirs created even more possibilities and more confusion. Would he have turned? Why? Was there any logic to this at all?

  Her head began to throb as up ahead another buggy came into sight. Seemed she wasn’t the only one running late this morning.

  Even better, maybe they had seen her dawdi. Maybe they had even picked him up! The thought sent her heart pounding a little harder in her chest.

  She flicked the reins over Harvey’s back and sent the horse into a faster clop.

  In no time at all she could pull even with the buggy.

  “Zeb?” she called in surprise. Of all the people.

  “Ivy.” Somehow, he sensed her need and pulled his buggy to the side of the road.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Her voice was frantic. “I can’t find Dawdi.” She bit back her tears. “I got up late, and he wasn’t in his bed. I checked all over the property. I don’t know where he is.” She didn’t need to add that she was worried sick.

  Zeb turned back to his brother and Clara Rose. Ivy had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t seen the two of them sitting in the buggy. Obie was in the front and Clara Rose in the back, with the baby next to her on the small bench. “Y’ all go on without me.”

  Obie nodded and slid into the driver’s spot without asking question one.

  “I’ll pray you find him quickly,” Clara Rose offered. Then Obie set the horse in motion and they were gone.

  “Let’s go.” Zeb took her by the elbow and led her back to her buggy. She swung up inside, and he took over driving. She was glad to have him. Even after all the times she had declared—sometimes loudly—that she didn’t want his help, or need it, she was so thankful to have him with her now.

  “Where all have you checked?” he asked.

  Ivy ticked all the places off one by one, starting with his room and ending with the very road they were traveling.

  “Has he mentioned someplace recently? Anyplace? Another church? Someone’s house?”

  “No.” She didn’t recall him saying anything that would give her any clues. He was the same as always: a little flighty, a little forgetful, and completely lovable.

  “Well, then, he has to be around here someplace. He can’t have just disappeared. And I’m pretty sure there haven’t been any alien abductions in the area for quite some time.”

  Ivy blinked. “What?”

  “I’m teasing. You look like you could use a laugh or two to release the tension.”

  She moved her head in a half-nodding, half-sha
king motion that said nothing at all.

  “We’ll find him.” Zeb’s demeanor turned serious, his eyes determined. Then he reached behind the seat and grabbed the blanket. With one hand, he laid it across her lap. “Cover up. You look cold.”

  She was. So cold she was shaking. Or was that caused by nerves? She felt like she was about to come apart. What if he had forgotten who he was this time? It was one thing to think it a different month or year. But if he couldn’t remember his own name, how would anyone be able to help him? The police wouldn’t be able to, or the firemen, or medics; none of the first responders. Not unless they were Amish volunteers. And they wouldn’t be called out today. Not on Sunday.

  Please let someone find him, she prayed. And please let that someone be Amish. It was perhaps the most heartfelt and silly prayer she had ever uttered. But she needed him to be okay. Nothing else would do.

  “We’ll find him,” Zeb promised again.

  And she believed him.

  It couldn’t be any other way.

  * * *

  Ivy shivered next to him. He wasn’t sure how much of her trembling was caused by the cold and how much of it was the shock of losing her grandfather.

  Zeb liked the man. He was a little goofy, but it made him charming all the same. Yonnie’s hair never seemed to be combed, his suspenders were always a little crooked, but if a person needed something, Yonnie could always be counted on to come through.

  And then there was Ivy. Zeb couldn’t stand the thought of her worrying herself so. But if he put himself in her shoes, he knew he would have been beside himself.

  They drove halfway to the Millers’, asking anyone they encountered if they had seen Yonnie. It was a challenge, seeing as how Ivy hadn’t seen him before he left and didn’t know what he was wearing. She told them what he’d had on last, but to the Englisch people, Zeb knew all the Amish looked alike.

  “Let’s go back toward town,” he suggested.

  She shrugged and huddled a little deeper into the blanket. “Whatever you think is best.”

  He reached out and clasped one of her hands. He squeezed her fingers, praying that the action would comfort her. “It can’t hurt,” he said.