CHAPTER 8
Gid picked at the food on his plate. Aunt Elsie had probably spent all day baking bread and chopping onions and roasting chickens. He’d seem ungrateful if he didn’t have at least three helpings of everything. But his heart and his appetite just weren’t in it.
His head was still swimming with Dottie Schrock and her stormy hazel eyes. Oh, she was pretty all right, but her beauty was not what had stolen his appetite. He was enchanted with the way she crinkled her nose when she was angry and how her graceful hands sprinkled cheese on top of a casserole and how his gut clenched when she twisted her lips into that cute, reluctant grin.
And how he’d ruined his chance with her.
He’d never been one to pussyfoot around the truth, even to spare someone’s feelings, but he hadn’t been prepared for Dottie’s reaction. He’d hurt her feelings something wonderful, and she probably didn’t want to lay eyes on him ever again.
The heaviness pressing on his chest made it hard to breath. In twenty-four short hours, Dottie had taken over his reason, his senses, and his life. She’d been worried to the point of anxiety about finishing everything for Christmas Eve, and yet she’d spent hours at Lou’s house making him feel a little less lonely and a little more loved.
The way she’d marched into that kitchen as if she’d owned it and made dinner with chicken and a few potato chips was nothing short of amazing. He could have sat at that table for hours just watching her move around the room while she worked her art with those graceful hands. Even the sight of her sweeping the floor, caring for Lou’s basic needs, made his throat dry up until he thought he’d never be able to swallow again. She filled every space in his chest and made his heart sing a joyful carol.
Could he really have grown this attached to someone in such a short time? Whether it made sense or not, the emotion was as real and tangible as his own heart beating forcefully in his chest.
Junior and Ada sat on his right with Onkel Joe and Aunt Elsie. His cousin Katie with her husband and two small children sat on Gid’s left. Onkel Joe and Elsie’s three other children would be here tomorrow morning with their families to open presents and eat Christmas dinner. There would be plenty of company to help him take his mind off Dottie, to help him forget the memory of her face when she’d stormed into her house this afternoon without so much as saying good-bye.
“Don’t you like it, Gid?” Aunt Elsie asked.
He lifted his head and smiled halfheartedly. “Jah. I love it. Chestnut stuffing is one of my favorites.” He shoved a big bite into his mouth.
“I hope so. We’re having chestnut stuffing again tomorrow. But this time inside the turkey.”
“And cheesy potatoes,” Junior said, with his mouth full of green Jell-O salad. “Lena is bringing the cheesy potatoes. They’re the best part of Christmas.”
“Junior,” Onkel Joe scolded, “the Christ child is the most important part of Christmas.”
“Yes, Dat,” Junior said, lowering his head in a brief show of humility before taking a monstrous bite of his roll. “I meant the best thing to eat at Christmas.”
“Junior, don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Maybe Gid should stroll over to Dottie’s place. Just for a visit. Maybe to deliver an apology. It was only a ten-minute walk from Aunt Elsie’s.
Nae. He would end up ruining Dottie’s perfect Christmas Eve with her family, just like he’d almost ruined her party last night. He wouldn’t care for a repeat of that scene at the door. He’d go tomorrow, after all the celebrating, and see if she’d agree to talk to him. Gid glanced out the window. The sky was blacker than a coal bin, and wispy flakes of snow fell lightly to the ground. It looked to be a bad storm. He’d go tomorrow. Hopefully more than the storm would have blown over by then.
A knock at the back door sent Gid to his feet. Maybe Dottie had decided she couldn’t wait. Maybe she had come to see him.
He shook his head, a little annoyed with himself that he would even imagine such a thing. Dottie was not coming tonight, not in his fondest dreams.
Gid was a little surprised to see Dottie’s dat, Melvin, standing on the back porch. Shouldn’t he be home with Dottie for the perfect Christmas Eve celebration?
“Is Dottie here?” Melvin said, stepping inside and brushing the snow off his coat.
“No . . . no,” Gid stammered, giddy with the thought that she might be coming. “Is she supposed to be?”
“She’s not here,” said Onkel Joe, rising to offer Melvin a seat.
Melvin shook his head at the empty chair. “She left home more than three hours ago and hasn’t returned. She was very firm that we start supper at six. That was almost half an hour ago.”
Aunt Elsie knitted her brow. “That doesn’t sound like Dottie.”
Melvin took off his hat and curled his fingers around the rim. “Do you know where she might be? She left the house at three and told Eva she had one more Christmas surprise to fetch, but she didn’t tell Eva where she was going. She loves secrets at Christmastime.”
“I know where she went,” Gid said. Dottie would probably be irritated that he spilled her secret, but her family was worried. He’d let her give him a stern talking-to tomorrow. “She’s been making a gift for your wife, and she’s been keeping it at my grandparents’ house so you wouldn’t find out. She told me she was going to pick it up this afternoon before supper.”
Melvin’s shoulders sagged with relief. “She probably got held up at Anna Helmuth’s. Sometimes she loses track of time when she’s doing one of her projects.”
Onkel Joe nudged the curtains aside. “It doesn’t look too good out there. I hope she makes it home soon. Buggies have a rough time in the snow.”
“She took the little sleigh Eva and Barty use for school. Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Aunt Elsie joined Onkel Joe at the window. “I don’t wonder but it will be mighty cold if she gets stuck in the snow on the way home.”
“If I need to fetch her,” said her dat, “I don’t want to wait. We could be in for quite a blizzard.”
Gid’s chest tightened. If Dottie saw a storm blowing in, she’d have enough sense to stay at Mammi and Dawdi’s overnight, wouldn’t she? He ran his fingers through his hair. Not when she wanted so badly to give her mamm the perfect Christmas. She’d trudge through a mountain of snow before she’d ever miss Christmas Eve.
The possibility of Dottie being in danger made him feel ill.
“I’ll ride to Huckleberry Hill,” Gid said.
Melvin gave Gid an anxious smile. “No, I can go.”
“I don’t mind. It will give me a chance to say hello to my grandparents.”
“It’s making down hard,” Melvin said doubtfully. “Are you sure? It’s almost a thirty-minute ride.”
Gid was already plucking his coat from the hook. “Onkel Joe, can I take your horse? Like as not, he’ll make it better through the snow without being hitched to the sleigh. I’ve done a lot of winter camping on a horse. I can take him through the snow yet.”
“I’ll have Junior saddle Pete.”
Junior groaned at the prospect of going out into the cold to ready the horse.
“No whining, son,” said Aunt Elsie.
“She’s probably on her way home by now,” said her dat, “but I would be grateful if you’d make sure she gets in safely. Lord willing, you’ll meet her coming here on your way there.”
“Can I take a lantern?” Gid asked.
“Jah, jah, anything you need,” Aunt Elsie said. “Do you want me to pack some food?”
Gid shook his head. “We won’t be gone that long, and it will only weigh down the horse. If she’s still at my mammi’s when I get there, I think we should stay the night at their place and not risk riding home in the storm.”
“I think that’s best,” said her dat.
“If Junior will let me borrow his cell phone, I can call Onkel Joe’s phone when I find her.” Onkel Joe had a phone in his wood shop for out-of-state orders.
Aunt Elsie’s eyes widened to the size of two shiny Christmas plates. “What cell phone?”
Gid glanced at Junior and winced. “Sorry, but I need a phone.”
Junior turned a bright shade of pink and averted his eyes as if he were playing that game where if he couldn’t see his mamm, she couldn’t see him.
It didn’t work. Aunt Elsie wasn’t about to let him get away with anything. “Joe Junior, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Junior shrugged his shoulders and grimaced sheepishly at his mamm. “It’s all charged up and ready to go?”
“Not good enough, young man. Get your phone for Gid and then go out there and saddle Pete and think hard on your sins.”
“But Mamm, I’m in rumschpringe.”
“Rumschpringe or no rumschpringe, you know better than to keep such a secret from your mamm. Ach, du lieva, Junior, it wonders me how you were raised.”
As sorry as Gid was about spilling the beans, he’d do the same thing again in a heartbeat. Dottie’s safety was more important that Junior’s secret cell phone.
Gid took the stairs two at a time. After putting on a pair snow pants and his warm wool socks, he laced up his snow boots, put on his coat, and pulled a beanie over his hair. Should he take his snowshoes? Maybe, just in case.
The anxiety rose like water in a flood. Dottie had to be all right.
Gid took a deep breath. Not one to lose his head in an emergency, he reined in his galloping thoughts. Dottie was probably walking into her house at this very minute, and they’d have a laugh about how everyone had worried.
He stomped into Junior’s room and pulled the cell phone from its hiding place at the bottom of Junior’s drawer. He wouldn’t turn it on until he needed to. Lord willing, Junior hadn’t been mistaken and the phone was charged. His heart bounced around in his chest. How likely was it that he would even get service in a place as remote as Huckleberry Hill?
With a lantern in one hand, and gloves and snowshoes in the other, he raced to the barn. Junior had laid a thick blanket underneath the saddle.
“Denki, Junior. I’m sorry about the cell phone.”
Junior waved away the apology. “She was gonna find out soon anyway. Sometimes I forget to turn the ringer off.”
“Who do you call with that thing?”
The corner of Junior’s lip twitched upward. “Lots of girls have them.”
Gid tied his snowshoes to the saddle, shoved the gloves onto his hands, and mounted.
“It helps if you hold it high above your head,” Junior said.
“What?”
“The cell reception isn’t all that good out here. When I can’t get a signal, I hold it over my head, and it sometimes works.”
“How do you talk to anybody with the phone two feet above your ear?”
Junior grinned. “I put it on speaker.”
Gid resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Junior had given him his phone. He would be grateful for that. But he wouldn’t be happy until he’d found Dottie and brought her home.
By the time Gid turned up the lane to Huckleberry Hill, the snow fell so hard, he had trouble seeing three feet in front of his face, even with the lantern. He’d watched for Dottie the whole way, but nobody was out on the road tonight, not even the Englischers in their cars.
He’d noticed a few tracks at least a mile back already buried with new snow, but they had turned off onto a narrow road that led into the woods. Dottie would know not to take that way home.
The temperature dipped into the twenties when darkness fell. The cold didn’t bother him. He had the gear to withstand it. But he had worried himself into a gut ache over Dottie. If she was outside in this, she’d be in deep trouble.
Holding his lantern aloft, he spurred Pete into a brisk walk, making sure not to push the horse too hard up the icy hill. He’d feel a whole lot better when he found Dottie safe and sound inside the house, sitting beside the fire and drinking hot cocoa with his grandparents.
He led Pete to the barn and tied him to a post. No use in the horse staying out in this any longer than he had to. Shielding his eyes from the snow pelting his face, he trudged up the porch steps and knocked on the door.
Mammi opened the door, squealed with delight, and ushered him into the kitchen. After the brisk air, the warmth nearly knocked him over and made his lungs feel heavy.
“Look, Felty, it’s Gid. Just the boy we wanted,” Anna said, her eyes a twinkly blue.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming to Bonduel,” Gid said, not wanting to spoil Dawdi’s Christmas snowshoe surprise.
Dawdi and Cousin Beth sat at the table sipping something from a steaming mug. It was right where Gid had hoped to find Dottie.
Beth grinned. “Gid, how nice to see you.”
Dawdi’s eyes danced. “Well, hello, Gid. I’m surprised to see you, but somehow your mammi knew you would come. You picked quite a night for a visit. It’s making down hard out there.”
“Very hard. I almost can’t see a thing.”
“Cum,” Anna said, nudging him farther into the room. “Stand by the woodstove and warm your hands. You look like Jack Frost with that layer of snow on your hat.”
Gid didn’t move. He wouldn’t make himself comfortable until he knew Dottie was safe. “Is Dottie here?”
“Ach, du lieva.” Anna burst into an infectious smile. “You’re looking for Dottie?”
“Is she here?”
“You just missed her. Well, I can’t say you just missed her. She left about half an hour ago.”
What was left of Gid’s stomach plummeted to the floor. “Half an hour? Did she say where she was going?”
“I hope she went straight home in this storm,” Beth said.
Fear set Gid’s heart to pounding against his chest. Dottie was out there somewhere, and if he didn’t find her soon, he didn’t even want to think about what might happen.
“She hadn’t arrived home yet when I left to come here. I came all the way from her house to see if I could track her down. I’m afraid she might be lost. I can’t see a thing through that blizzard out there.”
“Oh no,” Anna said. “What do you think happened? Do you think she’s okay?”
Gid closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I hope so.”
He took off his gloves and pulled Junior’s phone from his coat pocket. “I’m going to call the police.”
Anna covered her mouth with her hand. “The police? Is it that bad?”
“Maybe not, but I’m not going to wait to find out.”
He turned Junior’s phone on and dialed 911. The phone seemed to think about it for a minute and then blinked its rejection. Call failed.
Growling in frustration, he lifted the phone clear over his head and dialed again. Call failed. No good.
Ice ran through his veins as he tucked his coat collar around his neck. “I’m not getting any service. I’ll ride down the hill and try again and see if I can pick up any sign of her. Maybe she took a wrong turn and couldn’t find the way back.”
“If anybody can find her, you can,” Dawdi said. “Dig a snow cave if you can’t see your way out of the storm.”
“I will,” said Gid, hoping it didn’t come to that. If he was desperate enough to dig a snow cave, both he and Dottie would be in serious trouble indeed.
“Wait,” Mammi said. She bustled to her closet and pulled out an emerald-green scarf. “Take this. It’s made with lots of love. It will keep you extra warm.”
“Thank you,” Gid said. Mammi claimed her scarves had saved more than one life. Gid was never quite sure what she meant. “I’ll come by tomorrow to take you . . . I’ll visit tomorrow.”
“Bring Dottie along,” Mammi said, not grasping the gravity of the situation at hand. It was probably better that way.
Not wanting to waste one more minute, he bolted out the door without saying good-bye and ran for the barn. At least Pete had had a chance to get a drink and a little rest.
He coaxed Pete down the hill and onto the main road keeping a sharp lookout for any sign of Dottie and her sleigh. He tried the phone again, fearing he’d get the same result as before. He did.
As fast as he dared prod Pete to go, he headed in the direction of the path where he’d seen tracks earlier. Lord willing, he’d find Dottie at the end of those tracks.
A long, slow mile from Huckleberry Hill, Gid found the turnoff where he thought he had seen the tracks. He held the lantern at his side high enough to light his way but not so high that the light reflecting off the heavy snowfall blinded him. If there had been any tracks, they had been wiped clean by the snow and wind. He followed his gut and turned Pete down the lightly worn path. If Dottie had gone this way, she couldn’t have gone far.
“Dottie,” he called. The wind carried his voice away almost before it was out of his mouth. She wouldn’t be able to hear him above the roar of the storm, and even if she could, he would never hear her answer back.
He tried the phone one more time with little hope. If it hadn’t worked on Huckleberry Hill, chances were it wouldn’t work in the dense woods.
The trees grew thicker the farther he ventured off the road. Gid let Pete choose the pace as the horse gingerly plowed his way through the deepening snow. Snowflakes accumulated in Gid’s eyelashes and slithered down his neck despite Mammi’s fuzzy green scarf. His nose and cheeks felt raw in the biting wind.
Please, Lord, don’t let Dottie be out in this.
How far had he gone? Two, three miles? It was taking too long. He needed to find Dottie and he needed to find her now. And still, the snow fell in thick sheets.
He was just about to turn back when Pete nearly stumbled over an abandoned sleigh in the middle of the path. It was covered with snow, but its shape was easy enough to distinguish. His heart pounded even as a pit formed in his stomach.
It had to be Dottie’s sleigh. Where was Dottie?
Gid slid off Pete and studied the ground. His lantern cast a ghostly light over the snow. The drifts seemed less smooth to his left. Had Dottie led her pony farther into the woods? Maybe she had been so disoriented that she hadn’t known what direction she headed in.
Heavenly Father, please guide my steps.
Keeping his eyes glued to what looked like evidence of Dottie’s trail, Gid walked his horse deeper into the woods. He couldn’t see more than about four feet in front of him, but faint signs of footprints were enough to give him hope that he was going in the right direction.
A glint of something through the trees caught his eye. He put the lantern behind his back to smother its light. There it was, a tiny beacon up ahead. His heart jumped into his throat.
He trudged madly through the snow, pulling Pete behind him and keeping his gaze fixed on that light. He soon saw what he was headed toward. The dark shape of a hunter’s cabin loomed in front of him with a tiny light shining in one of the windows.
He guided Pete around the cabin until he found a door. Without even thinking to knock, he shoved the door open and lifted his lantern. A pony stood inside the small room, where half the floor was covered with snow. The pony looked no worse for the wear, even though he had to be cold.
A dim flashlight sat on the windowsill of an open window, pointed out into the darkness. The battery was just about spent.
He dropped Pete’s lead and stepped around the pony to another doorway, letting his light show the way. He could almost hear his clamoring heartbeat as he glimpsed a dark figure huddled in the corner. Holding his breath, he lifted the lantern higher and nearly passed out with relief.
“You came,” she whispered.