A Wells Landing Christmas Read online

  She remained in her thoughts the rest of the way to the Brenneman place. It was safer there than wondering about everything Zeb had seen on his trips. That just made her want to go more. The biggest problem of all was that she wasn’t sure if it was really traveling that she wanted or to just get away from herself for a while.

  She left the tractor idling as he stepped down. He was still staring at her, his hat pushed back now that he was out of the wind. “I would like to say that I had a fun time tonight.”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. And this is not a date.”

  “It could have been.” His words were quietly spoken and almost carried away on the cool night breeze.

  “No.” She shook her head. “It can’t, and it can’t ever be.”

  She could see it on his face. He wanted to protest, tell her they could start over, but there were no second chances. They’d had their opportunity, and they had blown it.

  Then his expression changed. It became one of serenity. “We’ll see,” he said, then turned and made his way into the house, leaving Ivy staring after him.

  * * *

  “Is she still out there?” he asked some fifteen minutes later.

  “She’s pulling away now,” Clara Rose said. She moved away from the window and took her seat back by the fire. She picked up her yarn and hook and after a short count began to work her magic once again. How anyone could take a string and make it into something useful was beyond him.

  He sat down on the couch and tried to relax. But seeing Ivy by surprise had him all wound up. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

  He had come into the house feeling her stare on him the entire way. It had taken everything he had, but he hadn’t looked back. He wanted her to wonder about what he said, wonder about what he meant. He wanted her to stay awake all night trying to figure it out. And he wanted more. So much more.

  When he had first come home to Wells Landing, he’d believed that he wanted to return to Florida. He’d only come home for a time. To see his brother, to let his family know he was okay. And if he was truly being honest, he wanted to see Ivy one more time, if only to prove to himself that he was over her.

  How could one man be so wrong?

  Chapter Twelve

  Somehow she managed to avoid Zeb for the rest of the week. He didn’t come into the bakery. Or by the house. At least if he did, he was gone by the time she got home.

  Tassie and Karl seemed to drop by every day, and Ivy never knew if it was Zeb or Karl who kept up her chores. One thing was certain: Tassie Weber wasn’t trying to set Ivy up with Karl, she was trying to set Dawdi up with herself.

  The thought made Ivy want to laugh and cry at the same time. She was glad her grandfather had someone interested in him, though she wouldn’t know what to do if he married Tassie Weber and moved into her dawdihaus.

  He would have plenty of people around all the time to help make sure that he didn’t forget himself or start a fire. All the things that Ivy constantly worried about. And Ivy would be . . . alone.

  She shifted uncomfortably on the church bench and did her best to direct her attention to the bishop. Cephas was delivering the main sermon today, and she usually enjoyed his message, but her mind kept wandering.

  What-ifs plagued her. What if this and what if that . . . all useless thoughts that only kept her from focusing on the now. That went double for speculating about the future. That too kept her mind on things best not dwelt on. She didn’t know what the future held. No one did. One thing she did know for certain: what it didn’t hold. And that was Zeb Brenneman.

  Somehow she kept herself from cutting her eyes in his direction to see if he was watching her. Because if he was looking at her, then he had to be thinking about her like she was thinking about him. And . . .

  And nothing. Thinking, watching, looking, none of those amounted to anything when it came down to love in the real world. That was what they had been given two years ago. A dose of real-world love. It didn’t last forever. It didn’t always survive tragedy. And no matter how much two people felt they cared for each other, there was a limit to it all. She and Zeb had reached that limit.

  She managed to keep her gaze centered on the bishop for the remainder of the service. Once church was dismissed, everyone worked together to set up the tables in the barn, which kept them out of the wind and the cold.

  It was less than two weeks until Christmas. Ivy was still hoping for a white Christmas, even though she knew better than to get her hopes up. She could dream and pray all she wanted, but that didn’t mean the stubborn Oklahoma weather would cooperate. It could just as well be sixty-five degrees and sunny as cold and snowy.

  Once everyone had filed out of the house, Ivy felt her feet taking her across the yard to where Zeb stood talking to his brothers.

  She walked straight to him. Not pausing to answer any greetings. Not that there were any. The crowd simply parted and allowed her through.

  “What about the blizzard of 2009?” she said without preamble. She stopped just short of being toe-to-toe with him.

  “Pardon?” Zeb asked.

  “You were talking about a white Christmas, and you said the last one we had was the Christmas of 2000.”

  He nodded. “I’d forgotten about 2009. That was some snowstorm.”

  And it was. Wet fat snowflakes had fallen from the sky at such a rate that before anyone knew what happened there were feet on the ground, not inches. The storm took everyone in the area by surprise.

  “Jah.” She nodded dumbly, not knowing what else to say. She had beelined over to him to tell him about historical weather, and now that the deed was done, she was searching for something to say.

  Because you don’t want to look stupid? Or because you don’t want to leave him?

  She didn’t have an answer to that.

  “That’s all I wanted to tell you.” She gave a quick nod, which was really more of a jerk of her chin, then started to turn away.

  “Can I come over this afternoon?”

  “There are no chores to be done today.” The words fairly jumped from her lips. It was neither a yes or a no, simply a statement that if he came over he couldn’t work since it was Sunday.

  “Maybe I want to come and just be with you for a while.”

  She searched her mind for some excuse, any excuse, and told him the only one she could find. “I’m sure Tassie will be coming over.” She had taken to coming over alone these last few days. Ivy wasn’t sure if Karl had refused to be a part of her plan any longer or if she had merely given up the pretense of having him along for Ivy.

  “I don’t mind.”

  I do! she wanted to shout. She wanted Zeb all to herself. She wanted him as far from her as possible. And she wanted him forever.

  But he wasn’t hers.

  “Are you up for a few hands of Uno?” she asked.

  Zeb blinked as if trying to clear his mind enough to decipher her words. “Uh, sure,” he finally said, followed by, “Uno?”

  Ivy smiled. “Tassie loves it.”

  Zeb shook his head. “Of course she does.”

  “So?” She waited for his answer.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he finally said.

  Ivy walked away, laughter threatening her solemn exit.

  * * *

  Uno.

  The one word dogged him all the way to Ivy’s house.

  Uno?

  Why couldn’t they play Scrabble or even Rook? They had enough players.

  Unless Ivy was teasing him and there would be no one involved in their afternoon. That was something he could accept. But somehow, no matter how hard he wanted to hang on to the idea, it slipped away. Jah, Uno was definitely part of his immediate future. He just knew it.

  But then again, so was Ivy. Spending the afternoon with her would be wonderful, amazing whether they actually played cards or not. Truth be known, he didn’t care what they did as long as they were together.

 
; There. He had finally admitted it to himself. He liked spending time with Ivy. He always had. And if they didn’t dwell too much in the past, couldn’t it be possible for the two of them to have a future?

  He reined in that thought as he pulled the buggy into her drive.

  A future with Ivy wasn’t something he could hang his hat on. They had tried, had even planned for a future only to have it cruelly snatched away from them. Some would call it divine intervention, others God’s will, but he knew what it was . . . a second chance for them both. They had agreed to use that chance for themselves and not look back.

  So why had Ivy “gone wild” once her mother remarried?

  It was one question she had not answered. Maybe she never would. But how could she have a second chance if she was starting rumors about herself and keeping the entire community at a distance?

  The thought slammed into him like a runaway horse. Unless she didn’t want that second chance.

  He couldn’t get his mind wrapped around the thought as he climbed down from the carriage and unhitched his horse. He turned the beast out into the pasture and made sure there was water in the trough before heading into the house.

  The question knocked around in his mind, bouncing off the sides of his brain until his head was nearly throbbing.

  He reached out to knock on the door, but it was jerked open before his knuckles met the wood.

  “Zeb!” Ivy’s tone and smile were overbright. “So good to see you.” She grabbed him by one arm and dragged him into the warm house.

  He barely had time to take a breath and get his bearings back before she continued. “Can I take your coat? I mean, you can hang it up there by the door. We were just about to start a game of Uno.”

  Yikes! She was serious.

  He removed his coat and hat and hung them on the peg hooks next to the front door, then turned toward the small table by the kitchen. True to her word, a deck of Uno cards was sitting in the middle of the table, waiting for play to begin. Yonnie was there, patiently waiting, as was the promised Tassie Weber, and . . . Karl.

  Zeb glanced back to Ivy, the cause for her trouble dawning on him. Tassie was trying to set her up with Karl. The thought was unimaginable. Karl was large but as mild-mannered as they came. He seemed a little slow on the uptake, and though Zeb had no problems with him personally, he imagined that Ivy would run all over the man before the ink dried on their marriage petition.

  “Come.” There was that overbright smile again. Ivy’s tone was pitched so high, Zeb wondered if only dogs could hear it. “Come sit down. Dawdi, deal Zeb in this hand.”

  Zeb dug in his heels even as Ivy urged him toward the table. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to intrude. I had no idea you had guests already. Perhaps I should go.”

  Ivy leaned in close. “Not on your life.” Then she straightened and trilled in that too-high voice, “We would love to have you join us. The more the merrier, isn’t that what they say?”

  “Of course, my dear.” But Tassie’s eyes held a resigned edge.

  Karl frowned, and as far as Zeb could tell, Yonnie was oblivious of the entire interaction.

  “If you’re certain,” Zeb said, stalling. He loved watching Ivy squirm. He supposed it was terrible of him, but watching her flit around unable to manipulate the situation to what she desired was somehow amusing to him.

  Because he had spent so much of his time unable to get her from his thoughts? Or perhaps because he enjoyed the pink flush that stole into her cheeks and made her freckles stand out in stark relief.

  Definitely the freckles.

  “There.” She sat back down with a thud, looking somewhat exhausted for her efforts.

  Karl continued to glare in a hurt sort of way, and Tassie herself seemed to wear a forced smile.

  “Are we ready?” Yonnie looked around the table.

  Everyone nodded except for Zeb.

  “I don’t have a seat,” he said mildly. There were only four chairs situated around the table.

  Ivy was on her feet in an instant. “You can have mine.” She gestured grandly to it.

  “Where are you going to sit?” he asked.

  She smiled, a little like a crazy person might smile. “I’ll just go . . . into the kitchen . . . and get us . . . some pie.” She was gone in an instant.

  “What are you waiting for?” Yonnie asked. “Sit down, boy.”

  Zeb looked from the frozen smile of Tassie, to Karl’s hurt, calflike gaze, to the kitchen door where Ivy had gone. “Maybe I’ll go help Ivy,” he said.

  Yonnie shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He started dealing the cards.

  For a moment, Zeb thought Karl might offer to go with him, but the time passed and the other man picked up the cards as Yonnie slid them to him.

  Tassie frowned at her hand, and Zeb figured it had nothing to do with her cards. He pushed into the kitchen after Ivy.

  “What are you doing?” Zeb asked. She hadn’t been in the kitchen more than a couple of minutes, and yet half a bag of flour had been dumped into a bowl and the milk was sitting opened on the countertop.

  She didn’t bother to turn around. “I’m making a pie.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s not going to bake itself.” She opened the bottom cabinet and pulled out her saucepan. She plunked it down on the stove top, lit the burner, then started for the larder.

  “I thought you meant you were going to get us some pie.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but we don’t have any pie. So I’m going to make one.”

  He started forward, then stopped, unsure it was wholly safe. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. Have you seen them?”

  That was it. He was going in. Braving the storm that was Ivy Weaver and whatever it was that had her so riled.

  He was directly behind her in a second. He spun her around, and grabbed her arms just to be on the safe side. “What is wrong with you?”

  For a moment he thought she was going to twist out of his grasp, then she seemed to wilt before his eyes.

  “She keeps pushing him at me, and he keeps resisting. I don’t need a reminder of what everyone says about me. I know the rumors. I started the rumors.”

  “So why is it bothering you at all?” he quietly asked.

  * * *

  Why had she told him any of this? Why had she told him anything at all?

  She gathered her strength and twisted away from him. Not that his grip was tight, but she needed some kind of fortitude to pull herself away from him. It had always been that way between them. It didn’t matter that her head knew that they could only be friends, that everything between them had run its course; her heart hadn’t gotten the message.

  “It was all right at first,” she said. She hadn’t wanted to tell him this either, but somehow the words had a mind of their own. They needed telling whether she wanted them told or not. “Then it sort of snowballed and got out of control.”

  “Will you tell me why you want to keep them at bay?” he asked quietly.

  How could she? She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. The damage is done.”

  He nodded and looked to the counter, where all her ingredients were scattered about. “What kind of pie are you making?”

  She sighed. “Vinegar.”

  “I love vinegar pie. Can I give you a hand?”

  “You like making pies?” she asked.

  He grinned. “No. But I hate playing Uno.”

  * * *

  Ivy ran the brush through her hair, smoothing it down when the crackle of static electricity reached her ears. Brush. Smooth. Brush. Smooth. While over and over in her head, the events of the afternoon played.

  She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life as she had been to see Zeb Brenneman that afternoon. Maybe she had been wrong about Tassie’s intentions. Once Ivy had thought the woman meant to pair her with Karl, then Ivy had suspected that Tassie herself had her eyes set on Dawdi. But after today, she was beginning to wonder
if both might be on Tassie Weber’s agenda.

  A soft knock sounded at her door.

  “Come in.”

  The door creaked open and her grandfather stood on the other side. “Getting ready for bed?”

  She nodded.

  He paused there in her doorway, then leaned against the jamb. “About this afternoon . . .”

  She stopped brushing her hair and held up one hand to stop the rest of his words. “You don’t have to say anything. If you enjoy Tassie’s company . . .” Did he enjoy Tassie’s company?

  She had never really thought about her grandfather with another wife. He had been married to her mammi for fifty years or better before Mammi died. And he had never acted as if he might ever get remarried. Now she wondered if there was more to it than merely true love.

  “Why are people saying all these horrible things about you?” Dawdi asked.

  Her heart sank. It was one part of her plan that she hadn’t thought through. She hadn’t wondered what would happen if the rumors got back to him.

  “You know how it can be,” she said, but she couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “I’m not even going to ask if they are true.”

  She turned and looked at him then. “You’re not?”

  He shook his head. “I know they can’t be. You were raised better than that.”

  “But you . . . you saw the car.”

  “Bah.” He waved a hand as if dismissing her words. “That’s just a car. And jeans are just clothing.”

  But the three boys she had allegedly kissed . . .

  “And the other,” he said, pinning her with clear blue eyes. Tonight it seemed as if all of his memory was intact. “I don’t believe that for a moment. What I want to know is what happened between you and Zeb Brenneman.”

  Ivy sputtered, recovered, and started brushing her hair once again. “What makes you think there’s something between me and Zeb?”

  “I’ve got eyes.”

  She should have outright denied it. What was wrong with her? She had been lying about her relationship with Zeb for as long as . . . well, as long as there had been a relationship with Zeb. But she couldn’t lie to her grandfather. Not now. No matter how badly she wanted to. “There’s nothing between us.” And that was the truth. As painful as it was.