Christmas in Apple Ridge Read Online Free PDF

a little before deciding she’s not right for you. Tell her you have a question about how she wants something done in her classroom or you want to show her how the window works.”
    “I have no questions, and if she needs to be shown how a window works, we need a new teacher.”
    “Jonah Kinsinger, you’re as stubborn as your grandfather.”
    “You know this, and yet you insist on shoving me into some poor woman’s life.”
    She passed him his cane, turned him around, and nudged him forward. “Go. And find the beauty in whatever wood is in front of you.”
    As innocent as her words were meant to be, they carried a mild dishonor to him. Aside from a few pangs of loneliness once in a while, he was content being single. As the thought rumbled through him, the memory of the stranger in black stood before him again. She’d captivated some part of him, but it wasn’t her beauty that had piqued his interest. Like an ancient oak, she carried hidden years, and as an artist, he was drawn to it.
    He walked outside, and cold liquid splattered over his head and down his neck. “Whoa.”
    “Jonah.” Mark’s surprised voice came from above him.
    Jonah looked up to see his friend on the roof with an upturned cup in his hand. A couple of men moved to Mark’s side to see what had happened.
    Jonah licked his lips. “Mmm. Lemonade.”
    Laughing, the men returned to work.
    Martha brought him a dishtowel, looking more concerned than amused.
    “Thanks.” Jonah wiped his face. “You’re standing in dangerous territory unless you prefer to wear your lemonade rather than drink it.”
    She motioned toward the picnic table. “Maybe you’d prefer trying on some food instead.”
    Her sense of humor amused him, which would make the chore his grandmother had laid before him easier.
    Why was it so hard for married men and women to accept that he liked being single? Only one thought came to his mind—
they
needed to find a better hobby.

C hildren’s laughter echoed across the snow-covered hills. Beth shivered, watching from a distance. Her feet ached from the cold, and her fingers were numb. A little Amish boy got off his sled and faced her. A younger girl took him by the hand. They stood motionless, watching Beth.
    She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. A man moved among the trees, calling to them. When they didn’t come, he walked closer and called again. The children motioned for Beth to join them, but her legs worked no better than her mouth. As the man drew closer, he smiled and gestured toward the field where half a dozen other children played. Too cold to move, Beth began to recognize the children. She knew their names, didn’t she? But from where?
    The frigid air around her seemed too much to bear, but the man and the children appeared as warm as if they sat in front of a wood stove. As if reading her thoughts, the man tilted his head and opened his jacket, revealing heaps of embers glowing in his chest. The children followed suit, showing a bonfire inside their tiny upper bodies.
    With stiff fingers Beth unhooked her black cape and looked at her heart. Anxiety spread through her body. Where they had embers and fire, she had frozen tundra.
    The man touched his chest and then held out an ember for her. Embarrassed at her frozen soul, she wanted to hold out her hand, but she couldn’t. Even if she could lift her arm, he stood too far away. She tried to walk toward him but couldn’t move. He held out his hand again.
    Her jaws fought against the wires that kept them clasped. “I … I can’t.”
    He looked straight through her, and she understood that he couldn’t come any closer. She had to be the one who moved. Snow began to fall, and the sky grew dark, but she couldn’t budge an inch. The sadness in the children’s eyes ran deeper than Beth could comprehend. They clasped hands and ran back to the others. The man stood, watching her. A tear slid down his face, and one by one the children faded into