Read Online Christmas in Apple Ridge by Cindy Woodsmall - Free Book Online
Authors: Cindy Woodsmall
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from the same log, but he’d not yet carved it.
He’d tried. Even now, as his hands moved over the rough-hewn treasure, he couldn’t visualize what he should carve. That had been the problem for months. Ready to know the thoughts of the man who’d taught him his craft, he tucked the box under his arm.
He went to the barn and hitched a horse to the carriage. As the horse ambled down the road, Jonah leaned back and enjoyed the scenery. Rolling hills, thick foliage on the trees, lush pastures. While looking out over the fields, he let his memory roll back to the day he’d dragged that fallen tree out of the canyon, and he realized just how much he looked forward to writing to Beth.
Pete’s driveway came into sight, and he slowed his rig. A few Englischer customers were leaving the store as he got out of the carriage. He noticed they hadn’t bought anything. With the box in one hand and his cane in the other, he climbed the steps and went inside.
“Hey, Old Man,” Pete called. “How about shutting that door and turning the sign around? I’m done for the day.”
It wouldn’t matter if Jonah showed up at midnight; Pete never failed to sound pleased to see him. Jonah did as asked and then walked to the counter where Pete stood. In a few minutes they’d walkto the back of the store, go through a doorway, and enter Pete’s tiny apartment.
Pete counted money from the cash-register drawer. “What brings you in this time of day?”
Jonah set the box on the countertop.
Pete laid a stack of tens on top of the drawer and moved in front of him. “This looks like it’s from that tree you and Amos dragged from the gorge.”
“Ya. I’ve only finished one project from that so far, the one Elizabeth Hertzler bought. Then I made this gift box, but I can’t for the life of me carve anything into it.”
Pete lifted the box, holding it in his hands as only a fellow carver would—with reverence and respect. He removed the lid and set it on the countertop before running his fingers across the inside of the box. “Maybe you’ve forgotten the lesson you taught me years ago.”
“I taught you?” Jonah knew the old bachelor was getting on in years, but he’d never seen him confused about anything.
“Yep.” Pete inspected the box again. “You put a lot of time into this.”
“And I’d like to finish it.”
Pete reached under the counter and pulled out a soft leather utility case. He unrolled it, revealing a set of carving tools. “You sat right there.” He pointed to an old wicker chair near the front counter. “You hadn’t been carving more than a year when you made a freestanding bird on a branch—not no relief carving, mind you.” Pete walked to his showcase and unlocked it. He brought the bird to Jonah.
“I’d forgotten about making this.”
“I won’t never forget. Look at the intricate detail. That’s not the work of an ordinary kid, or even a man, for that matter. I asked how you made it so lifelike, and you said, ‘All I did was remove everything that wasn’t the bird.’ ” Staring at the carving, Pete smiled, making his wrinkles deepen. “You were as wise as an old man from the start.”
Jonah passed him the bird. “Whenever I pick up this box to carve on it, I don’t see anything.”
Pete returned the bird to the showcase and locked it. “Blank?”
Jonah nodded.
“That doesn’t sound like you.” He pulled a twelve-millimeter gouge with a number four sweep to it from the leather pouch. “You need to remove whatever is hiding the image from you.” He placed the tool in Jonah’s palm. “The thing is, you may have to cut into more than the box to figure that out.”
Jonah squeezed the tool and thought of Beth’s letter. The oddness of that piece of wood lying in the forest, tugging at him, and then Beth’s strong draw to it felt … eerie. Yet calmness accompanied the feeling, and memories of dragging the felled tree out of the gorge absorbed him.
The cold winter day.
He’d tried. Even now, as his hands moved over the rough-hewn treasure, he couldn’t visualize what he should carve. That had been the problem for months. Ready to know the thoughts of the man who’d taught him his craft, he tucked the box under his arm.
He went to the barn and hitched a horse to the carriage. As the horse ambled down the road, Jonah leaned back and enjoyed the scenery. Rolling hills, thick foliage on the trees, lush pastures. While looking out over the fields, he let his memory roll back to the day he’d dragged that fallen tree out of the canyon, and he realized just how much he looked forward to writing to Beth.
Pete’s driveway came into sight, and he slowed his rig. A few Englischer customers were leaving the store as he got out of the carriage. He noticed they hadn’t bought anything. With the box in one hand and his cane in the other, he climbed the steps and went inside.
“Hey, Old Man,” Pete called. “How about shutting that door and turning the sign around? I’m done for the day.”
It wouldn’t matter if Jonah showed up at midnight; Pete never failed to sound pleased to see him. Jonah did as asked and then walked to the counter where Pete stood. In a few minutes they’d walkto the back of the store, go through a doorway, and enter Pete’s tiny apartment.
Pete counted money from the cash-register drawer. “What brings you in this time of day?”
Jonah set the box on the countertop.
Pete laid a stack of tens on top of the drawer and moved in front of him. “This looks like it’s from that tree you and Amos dragged from the gorge.”
“Ya. I’ve only finished one project from that so far, the one Elizabeth Hertzler bought. Then I made this gift box, but I can’t for the life of me carve anything into it.”
Pete lifted the box, holding it in his hands as only a fellow carver would—with reverence and respect. He removed the lid and set it on the countertop before running his fingers across the inside of the box. “Maybe you’ve forgotten the lesson you taught me years ago.”
“I taught you?” Jonah knew the old bachelor was getting on in years, but he’d never seen him confused about anything.
“Yep.” Pete inspected the box again. “You put a lot of time into this.”
“And I’d like to finish it.”
Pete reached under the counter and pulled out a soft leather utility case. He unrolled it, revealing a set of carving tools. “You sat right there.” He pointed to an old wicker chair near the front counter. “You hadn’t been carving more than a year when you made a freestanding bird on a branch—not no relief carving, mind you.” Pete walked to his showcase and unlocked it. He brought the bird to Jonah.
“I’d forgotten about making this.”
“I won’t never forget. Look at the intricate detail. That’s not the work of an ordinary kid, or even a man, for that matter. I asked how you made it so lifelike, and you said, ‘All I did was remove everything that wasn’t the bird.’ ” Staring at the carving, Pete smiled, making his wrinkles deepen. “You were as wise as an old man from the start.”
Jonah passed him the bird. “Whenever I pick up this box to carve on it, I don’t see anything.”
Pete returned the bird to the showcase and locked it. “Blank?”
Jonah nodded.
“That doesn’t sound like you.” He pulled a twelve-millimeter gouge with a number four sweep to it from the leather pouch. “You need to remove whatever is hiding the image from you.” He placed the tool in Jonah’s palm. “The thing is, you may have to cut into more than the box to figure that out.”
Jonah squeezed the tool and thought of Beth’s letter. The oddness of that piece of wood lying in the forest, tugging at him, and then Beth’s strong draw to it felt … eerie. Yet calmness accompanied the feeling, and memories of dragging the felled tree out of the gorge absorbed him.
The cold winter day.
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