Christmas in Apple Ridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

nothingness.
    His eyes pleaded with her to find the strength to move forward and take the ember, but even as she willed herself to take a step, he too faded away.
    Beth sat up in bed, trying to steady her pounding heart.
    That dream—and a dozen others like it over the last two weeks—was as bad as the ones that had plagued her since Henry died. Nightmares of him clinging to her as rain poured from the skies and formed rivers that swept him away while she remained on solid ground, her clothing soaked as the temperatures dropped and freezing winds began to blow. The images were too close to reality, and she couldn’t findfreedom whether Henry was alive or dead, whether she was awake or asleep. Thoughts of Henry always brought confusion, but lately the dreams weren’t about him.
    Sliding into her housecoat, she moved to the wooden steps that led to the store below. The darkness inside the stairwell felt familiar and welcoming, and she sat down. As the reassurance of the place wrapped around her, she began to shake free of the dream.
    She folded her arms and propped them on her knees, making a place to rest her head. While trying not to think about anything, sleep drifted over her again. A few moments later the sound of a horse neighing made her jerk awake. It took only a moment to realize the animal had been in her dream.
    It was useless trying to sleep, whether on the stairway or in bed. Rising to her feet, she grabbed the handrail, feeling a bit dizzy. She might as well get a little work done.
    Making her way down the stairs, through the store, and into her office, she couldn’t help wondering when dreams started mixing with a sense of reality. After entering her office, she slid her hands across the paper-strewn desk top, searching for a set of matches. Her fingertips brushed against the carving she’d bought nearly two weeks ago. It took up a good bit of her desk, but she’d made room for it.
    Forget the matches. Her mind was too cloudy to think anyway. She walked around her desk and sat in the chair. Gliding her fingertips over the intricate detail of the carving, she wished her aunt would at least go meet with the artist.
    She’d lost the argument with the bishop that it wasn’t an idol. Hequoted the second commandment—“thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.” Because the wood had human images carved into it, Omar felt it was too close to what the Old Testament warned against. Since faceless dolls were commonplace among her people for the same reasoning, Beth had little grounds for appeal. His decision was final, but she held on to the hope that she could convince Englischer stores to carry the carvings. That wasn’t working either since Lizzy refused to let her try. She said it would disrespect their bishop. Beth’s Daed and uncles sided with Lizzy, so for now Beth could do nothing.
    If her aunt was willing to talk with the artist and his bishop, she might feel differently. Then Beth could at least sell the man’s work to Englischer stores. But Lizzy seemed more interested in pleasing Bishop Omar than in making a difference in an artist’s life.
    Beth sighed, wishing they could see the carvings like she did, as no more of an idol than an Amish-sewn wall hanging. Maybe then the strange dreams where the children and the man from the carving beckoned her to enter their snowy Amish world would disappear.

    Standing on the porch of the store, Lizzy slid her key into the lock and turned it. Inside, she noticed the door to the steps that led to Beth’s bedroom stood open. Lizzy moved to the foot of the stairwell. “Beth?”
    She heard no movement upstairs. Turning slowly in a circle, she expected her niece’s head to pop up from between the aisles. Usually by this time each morning, the two of them had shared a breakfast, talked business, and begun preparing to open the place at nine. “Beth?”
    Her heart ran wild, and panic over her niece sliced through her. The young woman hadn’t been herself