A Wells Landing Christmas Read online

  Chapter Eighteen

  Second Christmas dawned bright and clear. The sleet that had fallen the day before was nothing more than a memory.

  Ivy had almost forgotten the best part about the bad weather on Christmas Day: it meant she didn’t have to see Tassie and Karl. It wasn’t a very Christian thought, but she couldn’t help it. She had the strangest feeling that Tassie was trying to court her grandfather whether he wanted to be courted or not.

  “I suppose the Webers will be over today,” she said at breakfast.

  Dawdi shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t been out to the shanty to check the messages.”

  She would guarantee there was one on there from Tassie saying she would be taking that piece of pie today. But Ivy had plans of her own. She might have missed going into town and visiting with the sweet residents of the senior home, but she wasn’t going to miss it today.

  “I’m going to Whispering Pines,” she announced somewhere between the bacon and her first biscuit.

  Dawdi stopped buttering his own biscuit and looked at her with a strange light in his eyes. “What?”

  “I’m going—I would like to go into town to the retirement home today. I would like to check on the residents.” She didn’t say the rest. She didn’t have to. They knew that she wanted to check on Ethan’s things and find out about any arrangements that had been made.

  “Second Christmas is for visiting,” her grandfather said.

  She nodded. “And that’s just what I’m doing.”

  * * *

  In the end, she left Zeb and Dawdi just after noon to drive into town. Zeb had wanted to ride with her, but she asked him to stay with Dawdi. She knew he was trying to be supportive, but this was something she had to do alone. Besides, she would feel much better knowing Zeb was there, in case her grandfather had a memory slip again.

  Christmas with Zeb had been wonderful, and for a moment there, she had believed that maybe they could have a second chance. But deep down, she knew he was returning to Florida. Any second chance they might carve out for themselves would be lost along the miles.

  She parked her tractor in the nearly empty parking lot and made her way inside. The Christmas music was no longer playing through the halls. Now some piano music without words wafted around. Any other time it might have been soothing, but she missed the cheery sounds of the season. She tried not to let it get her down as she stopped at the front desk to sign in for her visit.

  “Hi, Ivy.” Angie greeted her with a genuine smile. “How was your Christmas?”

  Ivy smiled. “It was nice. Kind of quiet.” Until she and Zeb had started playing games. At that point, her grandfather had put in his earplugs and headed for bed. “Yours?”

  “Lots of fun, as always.”

  Ivy nodded. “That’s good.”

  “There’s someone here I think you should meet.”

  “I came to help with Ethan’s room,” she explained, tears pricking her eyes. She didn’t want to meet any new residents today. She wanted to assist in getting all of Ethan’s things packed up and ready for his family to pick them up. “Maybe next time.” Would there be a next time? Or had Ethan been the only reason she had been led here? Yes, she decided. She would come again. But next time, not for her. For the residents.

  “He’s in Mr. Dallas’s room.” She nodded down the hallway toward Ethan’s room.

  Ivy nodded and tried not to be disappointed. She had wanted to help, not visit with some old friend from Ethan’s past. Still she started down the hallway toward his room. How was she going to explain her relationship with the man? It was unique, to be sure. She would simply say that they had been friends and leave it at that.

  She took a deep breath and pushed inside. But she drew up short when she saw the man standing there. This was no work colleague, no war buddy, no one from Ethan’s past.

  He turned at the sound of her footfalls.

  She blinked at him in stunned silence.

  He took a step back, obviously surprised as well.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  He smiled, showing even white teeth in his sun-browned face. “I think that’s my line.” His sea-blue eyes twinkled as he raked his longish blond hair off his forehead.

  “I’m Ivy,” she said. “Ivy Weaver.”

  Those gorgeous eyes widened. “You are?”

  She pinned him with a suspicious stare. He might be the cutest thing she had seen in a long time, but that didn’t mean he was supposed to be in Ethan’s room. Still, there was something oddly familiar about him. “Your turn.”

  He paused long enough to set the framed photograph back on the television set before meeting her gaze. “Logan Dallas,” he said. “At your service.” He took a step forward and reached out a hand to shake. She took it, noting the calluses.

  Ethan had told her that his grandson was in Central or South America somewhere building houses for the poor. And apparently that was so important that he couldn’t come see his grandfather before he died.

  She jerked her hand away. “So good of you to finally come.”

  He tilted his head to one side as if trying to figure her out.

  Good luck, buddy. Better than you have tried.

  “I get the feeling that you’re angry with something—me, actually—but I can’t fathom why.”

  “You arrive two days after your grandfather dies when you should have been here for him long before that. You figure it out.”

  “I see.” He smiled, once again showing those perfect teeth in that perfect face. In fact, the only thing she could see that might be an imperfection were the rough spots on his hands that he had gotten helping others. Still, his grandfather had needed him and he hadn’t been there.

  “He wanted to see you, you know. Before he . . . died. He wanted you to come, but you didn’t.” To her regret, tears rose in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She didn’t want Logan Dallas to think she was crying for him. She was crying over the disappointment she had seen Ethan suffer, dying alone.

  He straightened, and she knew she had hit a nerve. “I don’t owe you an explanation, but I’ll give you one anyhow. I was on my way here for Christmas, but I got delayed at the borders. The Nicaraguan and Honduran officials aren’t exactly lovey-dovey with Americans. I spent two days at each border while they searched everything I had. More than once, I might add. And you don’t even want to know what they did to my person.”

  She held up a hand. “Please.”

  Logan grew quiet, merely staring at the things on the bookcase as if he wasn’t really seeing them at all. “He was my grandfather,” he finally said. “And I love him very much.”

  Her tears rose again as his voice choked.

  “I always thought that when you knew someone was going to die that it made it easier when they finally passed.” He looked up at her with those beautiful sea-colored eyes. “I was wrong.”

  She nodded, not knowing what else to do. She shouldn’t be here. Yes, she loved Ethan too, but not in the same way that Logan had. She should leave, give him time to collect his grandfather’s things. She wasn’t needed. “I’m sorry,” she said simply. Sorry for his loss, sorry that she had accused him, sorry that he hadn’t made it before Ethan died. “It was nice to meet you.” She turned and hurried out the door.

  “Wait,” he cried.

  She whirled around to find that he had followed her into the hallway.

  “You must have come here for a reason.” He raised his brows to make his statement seem more like a question.

  She nodded, the untied strings of her prayer covering brushing across her shoulders. “Jah.” She lifted her chin. “I came to help pack up his belongings.”

  “Stay,” he quietly commanded. “If you want to. I mean, you don’t have to leave.”

  She may not have to, but she should. “This is your time with him.” And she didn’t want to intrude. She turned to go once again.

  “He talked about you all the time,” he said, effectively stoppin
g her in her tracks.

  “He did?” She slowly faced him.

  “Oh, yeah. Ivy this and Ivy that. He wanted me to pray for you.”

  “For me?” She lightly thumped her chest. “Me?”

  Logan nodded. “He was worried about you.”

  That was Ethan, dying himself and yet worried over the lives of others. She couldn’t help but give a little smile. “He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was.” Logan returned her smile with one of his own. “Will you stay?” he asked. “I could use the help.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  He gave an understanding nod. “If you were intruding, I wouldn’t have invited you.”

  * * *

  They worked side by side boxing up Ethan’s things. With only about half of it ready to transport, they decided to take a pudding break in the cafeteria.

  “And you two would do this every week?” Logan asked as they grabbed their cups of pudding and found a seat.

  “Without fail.”

  He chuckled. “That’s just like him. Find the prettiest girl in the place and ply her with sweets.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what all that meant, but she understood one thing: Logan Dallas thought she was pretty. The idea shouldn’t have thrilled her, but it did. Because he was Englisch? Maybe. Because he was worldly in ways she had never imagined? Perhaps. Or because he was related to someone she had fallen in love with? Even more likely. Moreover, he might be the best-looking man she had ever laid eyes on. Zeb aside. Zeb was handsome in a familiar way. Logan was exotic. He was browned by the sun, callused from hard work, and impossibly blond around his face. The back of his hair was darker, nearly a honey color, and she figured he wore a hat when he worked.

  “He didn’t tell me, you know,” Logan said somewhere between the first cup of pudding and the second.

  “Hmmm?” Ivy said in lieu of real words. Her mouth was full of pudding.

  “He didn’t tell me you were Amish.”

  She blinked, a little stunned, then somehow managed to swallow the mouthful. “He didn’t?” She was the Amish girl. She had heard the others talking. It was simply how they remembered her.

  Logan scraped the last bite from the little plastic cup, then pulled the lid off the second. “I find that strange.”

  “I don’t.” Ethan Dallas was a fair man. He didn’t divide people out into parcels. He had done everything in his power to help her. He wanted her to forgive herself, go forward, begin to live again. “He was just like that.” The fact that she was Amish hadn’t mattered to Ethan, so he hadn’t mentioned it.

  “He did tell me about your red hair. And your blue eyes.” Logan’s expression became unreadable. Up until that point she’d been able to almost read his thoughts in those expressive eyes, but now . . .

  “Is that a problem?”

  He smiled, but now she wondered if he was wearing a mask to cover what he was really thinking. “Of course not. It just surprised me is all.”

  But he told Logan about her red hair and blue eyes. What did that mean? That her hair was more outstanding than her religion? She shook the thought away. She was overthinking things.

  “I guess we should be getting back to work.”

  Ivy nodded and pushed herself up from the table.

  They deposited their empty pudding cups in the large trash can and started for the door.

  “Look, Ethel,” one woman was saying as they came through the cafeteria doors. “There’s the girl I’ve been telling you about.”

  Heat filled her cheeks as the woman pointed toward her. She knew they were deep pink, most probably making her freckles stand out like little tan pepper flakes all over her face.

  “Land sakes!” Ethel exclaimed, rushing toward her. Her bright red hair was styled in curls that stayed close to her head. Most of the other ladies had similar hairstyles, and Ivy wondered if the same person helped them all.

  Ethel grabbed Ivy’s hands, nearly dancing in place there in front of her. “They told me there was another redhead around, but I hadn’t seen you with my own eyes and wasn’t about to believe them. Yet here you are.”

  Ivy wanted to ask why they would lie about such a thing, but decided against it. “Here I am,” she weakly replied.

  “We could be twins,” she shrieked. Except that Ethel hadn’t been cursed with so many freckles. Plus she was about thirty pounds heavier and four inches shorter than Ivy. Oh, and her hair was obviously dyed. Why anyone would purposefully make their hair this color was beyond Ivy. When she was younger she had made up fantasies about turning Englisch just so she could dye her hair a “normal” color.

  “And you must be Ethan’s boy.” The other lady—Alice, Ivy thought her name was—grabbed one of Logan’s hands and squeezed it between her own. “So sorry to hear about your granddad. He was such a good man.”

  “Thank you.” Logan laid his hands on top of hers as Ivy had seen some of the Englisch preachers in town do. She wasn’t sure where she had seen it; only that she had. “He’s with the Father now,” Logan said with great confidence. “Happy and out of pain.”

  Pain? Ivy hadn’t known he’d had pains. He had always seemed so upbeat and positive. She supposed he’d hidden his trials from the rest of the world.

  “Amen,” Ethel said, raising her hands in the air and twirling around in place.

  The ladies continued to talk with Logan for a moment, but she couldn’t pay them any mind. She was too busy thinking about what Logan had said. He’s with the Father now. As if he knew without a doubt that his grandfather had gone to heaven.

  The thought was foreign to her. She had been raised to believe in Jesus, but that alone wasn’t enough to secure her a place in heaven. She had to walk like Jesus, do good deeds for her neighbors and friends, even strangers. She had to be the best Christian she could be. Then, and only then, she could hope that she would be let into heaven when she died.

  She was startled out of her thoughts as each lady leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She wasn’t used to such public displays and hoped she didn’t look horrified at their familiarity. They didn’t seem to notice as they waggled their fingers at Logan in a gesture of goodbye, then made their way to the cafeteria food line.

  Ivy and Logan walked back to his grandfather’s room in silence.

  “I want to thank you for helping me,” he said. “Can I buy you dinner tonight?”

  That sounded so much like a date, her heart pounded. Her voice was lost. She knew he didn’t mean it that way, but it was shocking and thrilling all the same. She shook her head.

  “You got to eat sometime.”

  “I—” She cleared her throat. “I have to go home and take care of my grandfather.” And Zeb, she reminded herself. Have you forgotten about him?

  Logan nodded in that understanding way of his. “I see. Well, that explains a great deal.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Logan said. “I can get it from here.”

  She got the distinct impression that he wanted to be alone. It was the one thing she knew she could give him, no matter how badly she wanted to stay. But do you want to stay to help, or to gaze moony-eyed at Logan Dallas? “Of course.” She extended a hand for him to shake. He took it. There were those calluses again. “It was nice to meet you, Logan Dallas.”

  “Very nice to meet you as well.”

  He waited by the door until she was out of sight. She knew because she looked back twice.

  It was better this way. After today, she would never see Logan Dallas again.

  Angie flashed her a quick smile. “So?” she asked. “What did you think?”

  “About what?” Ivy asked innocently. She knew exactly what Angie was talking about.

  “Mr. Ethan’s grandson. He’s cute, huh?”

  “I suppose.” He was beyond cute.

  “I don’t know why I was so surprised when I saw him. How can he not be cute and be kin to Mr. Ethan?”
<
br />   Ivy pulled the clipboard closer, checked herself out, and tried not to think too hard about Logan Dallas and how handsome he really was.

  “Do you have a boyfriend, Ivy?”

  Did she? What was Zeb? She couldn’t really say he was anything other than a friend. And someone she almost married. Almost had a baby with.

  She took so long to answer that Angie’s eyes widened. “You do! Is it a secret? I heard that the Amish keep their relationships a secret. Is that true?”

  “I’m not trying to hide anything.” It was almost the truth. “I can’t have boyfriend. I haven’t joined the church.”

  Angie frowned.

  “It’s complicated,” she said by way of explanation.

  “I guess so.” Angie straightened the papers on her desk as Ivy finished signing out. “Would you be willing to come back in a couple of days and help us get all the Christmas ornaments put away?”

  Ivy looked around at the shiny tinsel. Once it had been glittery and festive. Now it seemed sad, tired. “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Ivy. I hope that you’ll continue to come visit us. The residents love seeing your face.”

  Ivy gave her a small smile. “I would love to.” And she would. Whispering Pines seemed to be the one place where she was always welcome.

  * * *

  “I can go with you if you like.” Zeb studied her face with such intensity that Ivy wanted to turn away. She wasn’t sure what he was seeing there, or if it was something she wanted him to see.

  “No, that’s okay.” I would rather go alone.

  Two more days had passed since she had met Logan Dallas at the retirement home. Today was the day they laid his grandfather to rest. Ethan had been buried at a large cemetery in Tulsa. She hadn’t wanted to go to the funeral; showing up there would have been a bit too presumptuous. But she wanted to see his final resting place and wish him farewell.

  Her decision had nothing to do with Logan Dallas. At least that was what she was telling herself. There was something magnetic about the man. Just as there had been about his grandfather. Ivy found herself thinking about him again and again, comparing him to the people she knew. She couldn’t figure it out, so she thought it best to avoid him altogether. It wasn’t like anything could happen between the two of them.