Christmas at Rose Hill Farm Read Online Free PDF

need with a doctor?” She waved that thought away with a flick of her big wrist. She didn’t trust doctors. “They’d just end up giving me pills to shorten my life.”
    Just as Bess opened her mouth to object, a knock interrupted her train of thought. She went to open the door and foundherself staring at the most beautiful boy she had ever seen in all her twelve years. His hair was curly and thick, and it looked as if he hadn’t combed it in a hundred years.
    â€œWho is it?” Mammi bellowed from across the room. She said she was deaf, but she heard everything.
    The boy looked at Bess curiously, then peered over her head at her grandmother. “It’s me, Bertha. Billy. Maggie tagged along.”
    Mammi peered back. “Wann bischt du aaegelandt?” What wind blew you hither?
    â€œMaggie said you wanted to see me.”
    â€œYou’re late. I was expecting you this morning.” Mammi expected a lot. And she always claimed she knew when a person was coming. But then, she claimed she knew everything. “Well, come on in, Billy Lapp.”
    The boy stepped around Bess and crossed the room to Mammi. Behind the beautiful boy was a small girl, about ten or eleven, who looked like a pixie, with snapping dark eyes hidden behind big glasses.
    â€œWho are you?” the girl said.
    Bess’s mind went blank. She couldn’t get a word from her head to her mouth.
    â€œIs she all right?” Billy whispered, pointing to his head. He spoke to Mammi, not even glancing at Bess.
    â€œShe’s fine. Billy Lapp and Maggie Zook, meet Bess. She’s my granddaughter from Ohio.” Mammi looked at Bess. “Billy lives that way,” she pointed a big thumb in one direction, “and Maggie lives the other way. Bess needs some friends.”
    Billy erased Mammi’s comment in midair. She heard him mutter that he didn’t have time to be friends with a girl, especially one who couldn’t talk.
    Fine. Too bad for him. She didn’t want to be friends either.
    Then he looked up. His eyes were blue, the clear color of a September sky, the bluest she had ever seen. He was staringstraight at her with a fierce gaze, and she felt like she was struck by lightning.
    Maggie pushed her glasses up on her nose, peering at Bess. “How old are you?”
    Bess was having trouble gathering her thoughts. She cleared her throat and tried to speak, but nothing came out. She was too overcome by the handsomeness of Billy Lapp.
    Mammi answered for her. “She’s twelve.”
    â€œWhere do you live?” Billy said, enunciating carefully. He still thought Bess was slow.
    â€œDidn’t you notice her at the funeral for Samuel, Billy?” Maggie said. “I did! She came all the way from Oleo!”
    â€œOleo is yellow lard,” Billy said.
    â€œOhio,” Mammi corrected. “And it’s not all that far, Maggie. No need to get historical.”
    â€œHysterical,” Billy said.
    Maggie turned to Bess. “Don’t you worry about not being able to talk. There’s lots of ways to communicate. We can pass notes in school.”
    Wait. What? School? Bess had no intention of starting school in Stoney Ridge. She’d been more than happy to miss school these last few weeks. She couldn’t wait until she finished eighth grade next year and could say goodbye to school for the rest of her life. She kept a wall calendar at home in Ohio in which she marked a red X over each passing day.
    â€œBess can talk. She just don’t say much, unlike some other girls her age.” Mammi lifted a sparse eyebrow in Maggie’s direction.
    â€œHow long is she staying?” Maggie didn’t realize she’d just been insulted by Mammi.
    â€œShe’s staying on a bit longer to help me get through my time of sorrow,” Mammi said.
    Maggie slipped closer to Bess. “I’ve read that mutes can learnto talk with their fingers.” She wiggled